Cradle Conspiracy
by Hailey Egan Cena
Summary: John Cena came home to Texas to recuperate.He'd wanted peace but instead found a terrified blond on his doorstep.An Alluring stranger who'd given birth to a beautiful baby boy..his baby boy.Brenna Geller claimed he wasn't the donor she'd chosen but someone had made a switch and they wanted her out of the way.If John wanted a chance at fatherhood,he would have to protect her.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, this is a story I've had sitting on my computer for a while that I wrote for something else. So I figured why not post it here. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer:I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No Copyright Infringement Intended.

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Prologue:

Fall Creek, Texas

The muffled scream woke John Cena. He snapped to a sitting position in the leather recliner, turned his ear toward the sound and listened. Even through the haze of his heavy pain meds and bone-weary fatigue, he didn't have to listen long or hard to hear the raspy moans and gasps.

Someone was in a lot of pain, perhaps dying. And that someone was on the front porch. Because he was a man who usually dealt with worst-case scenarios, John automatically considered that this might be a burglar or killer. But since he was at his brother's house in the tiny picturesque town of Fall Creek, which wasn't exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, he had to consider another possibility: that his brother, a doctor, had a visitor, a patient who was about to die on the porch. It made sense since there wasn't a hospital in town.

Just to be safe, John grabbed his Sig-Sauer from the end table next to him and maneuvered himself out of the chair. Not easily. It took effort. Lots of it. He cursed the intrusion, the throbbing pain and the unidentified SOB who'd put a .38 jacketed slug in his right leg four days ago—on Christmas day, no less. Some Christmas present.

John wore only his bathrobe and boxers, and he considered a detour to the guest bedroom for a shirt and shoes. But after two steps, he changed his mind. If someone was truly dying on the porch, they'd be long dead before he could get dressed and back to him.

Another moan. Another muffled scream. Yep, he had to hurry. John jammed his cane onto the hardwood floor to get better traction, and with thirteen excruciating steps, he made it to the door. He aimed his gun, and braced himself for whatever he was about to have to deal with as he glanced out a side window.

The sun was just starting to set but there was still plenty of light for him to see the blue car parked in front of his brother's isolated country house. John had to look down, however to see the driver. She was lying on the porch. Her tan wool coat and long, loose dark-green dress were hiked up to her thighs, and she had her hands clutched on her swollen, pregnant belly. She was writhing in pain.

John dropped his gun onto the pine entry table, threw open the door and maneuvered himself onto the porch. It wasn't freezing but it was close and he felt the chill slide over his bare chest and feet. She turned her head, snared his gaze, and he saw the horrible agony in her blue eyes.

"Help me." She begged. Her warm breath mixed with the frigid December air and created a misty haze around her milky pale face. "My water broke when I got out of the car and the pains are already nonstop."

So, not dying. In labor. Not the end of the world but still a huge concern. She needed a doctor now. John turned to go back inside to make the call to 911, but she latched on to his arm and didn't let go. For such a weak-looking little thing, she had a powerful grip. She dug her fingernails and dragged John down beside her.

He banged his leg on the doorjamb and could have sworn he saw stars. Still, he pushed the god-awful pain aside—after some grimacing and grunting of his own—and he tried to figure out what the heck he should do.

"Who are you?" He asked.

She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip, but he still heard the groan. "It's not the time for introductions." She grumbled. She fought to rip off her panties and then threw them aside. "Help me!"

"I've never delivered a baby before." He grumbled back but John knew he was in the wrong position if he stood any chance of helping her.

Another of her muffled screams got him moving. Plus, she drew blood with her fingernails. Somehow, he managed to get to the other end of her. What John saw when he looked between her legs had him wanting to run for the phone again. Oh, mercy. The baby's head was already partially out and that meant they didn't have time for an ambulance to arrive.

"I think you're supposed to push." John suggested. Heaven knows why he said that. Maybe he'd heard it on TV. Or maybe this was just some crazy dream brought on by prescription pain meds. Man, he hoped that's all it was. The woman obviously didn't doubt his advice, because she pushed. Hard.

John positioned his hands under the baby's head, and he watched. That long push strained the veins on the woman's neck and it also eased the baby out farther. He didn't just see a head but a tiny face. Realizing he had to do something, John pulled off his terry-cloth robe and laid it between her legs so that the baby wouldn't land on the cold wood. It was barely in time. As the woman pushed again, the baby's shoulders and back appeared.

"One more push should do it." John told her.

She made a throaty, raspy sound and bore down, shoving her feet against the porch. Seconds later, the tiny baby slid right into John's hands.

Wow, was his first reaction. Followed quickly by holy frickin hell.

John had experienced a lot of crazy and amazing things in his life, but he knew this was going to go to the top of his list. "It's a boy." He let her know.

And that baby boy had some strength because he began to cry at the top of his newborn lungs. Obviously, he wasn't having any trouble breathing on his own and John was thankful for that. He wouldn't have had a clue what to do if there'd been complications.

Going purely on instinct, John bundled the bathrobe around the baby, especially around his head, and pulled him to his chest to keep him warm.

"A boy." She repeated. She sounded both relieved and exhausted.

The woman pushed again to expel the afterbirth and then tried to sit up. She didn't make it on her first attempt but she did it on her second. She reached for the baby. John eased him into her arms.

It was strange. He immediately left a….loss. Probably because he was freezing and the tiny baby had been warm. The mother looked down at her newborn and smiled. It was a moment he'd remember, all right. Her sitting there with her blond hair haloing her face and shoulders, and the tiny baby snuggled and crying in John's own bathrobe.

"My son." She whispered. And then she said something that nearly knocked the breath out of John. "He's your nephew."

Oh, man. Oh man. It was obviously time for him to talk to his brother. "I'll go inside and call an ambulance." He told her. He began the maneuvering it'd take to get him up. "By the way, we should probably do those introductions now. But you obviously already know that I'm John Cena."

"You can't be." She said, her voice trembling, too. "This is Adam Cena Copeland's house."

"My brother isn't here." He told her. "He's on rounds at the hospital in a nearby town." In addition to confusing him, she'd also capture his attention with that comment and her reaction. "Who are you? Are you a friend of my brother?"

She frantically shook her head and put her index finger in the baby's mouth. He began to suck and stopped crying. "I need a doctor."

He wanted answers, but they would have to wait. "Come inside." He insisted. "It's too cold out here."

"I don't think I can get up. Please, just call an ambulance."

Well, he certainly couldn't help her get to her feet. He could barely get up himself. So, John tried to hurry as much as he could. With lots of pain and effort, he made it back into the living room. All thirteen steps. He dialed 911, reported the incident and requested an ambulance. He also requested that they contact his brother and have him accompany that ambulance to his house.

"Get the baby and mother inside ASAP." The emergency operator insisted. "It's dangerous for a newborn to be in the cold."

John agreed with her, hung up, then wondered how the heck he was going to accomplish that with his bum leg. He was more likely to fall than to be able to lift them. Still, he'd have to do it somehow. With his cane clacking on the floor and his mind racing with possible solutions to his lack of mobility, John went back to the porch. He got there just in time to see that it was empty. No mother. No newborn baby.

Just a lot of blood. And the blue car was speeding away.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One:

San Antonio, Texas

Six weeks later

Brenna Geller peered out the double glass doors of the Morrison Pediatric clinic to make sure there wasn't anyone suspicious lurking in the parking lot. There were a handful of cars, no one on the adjacent sidewalk and no one who seemed to be waiting for her to come out. Everything was okay.

Well, everything but the niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach, but Brenna had been living with that particular feeling for months now. She was beginning to wonder if it would ever go away.

She looked down at her newborn son, Aidan, and smiled. He was still sleeping, tucked in the warm, soft covers of the baby carrier. For his six-week-old checkup, Brenna had dressed him in a new blue one-piece baby outfit and a matching knit cap. Still, it was winter, so she draped another blanket over the top of the carrier so he wouldn't get cold. She retrieved her pepper-spray keychain from her diaper bag and hurried out into the bitter weather.

It was already past five-thirty and the temperature had plunged since she'd first gone inside nearly an hour earlier. She'd had one of the last appointments of the day. Not accidental, but by design. The winter sun was already low in the sky and Brenna hoped the duskiness would prevent her from being easily seen.

The wind slammed into her face, cutting her breath, but she kept up the fast pace until she made it to her car. During the past year, she'd learned to hurry, to stay out of plain sight, to go out as little as possible. It was second nature now.

She strapped Aidan's carrier into the rear-facing brackets mounted in the backseat and then slipped in behind the steering wheel. She started to turn on the engine but the sound stopped her. There was a sharp rap on the passenger's side window.

Brenna's gaze whipped toward the sound and she saw a man staring at her. But this wasn't just any ordinary man. Oh, God. He'd found her. Choking back a gasp, Brenna grabbed for the lock, but it was already too late. John Cena pulled open the passenger's door and calmly got inside her car as if he had every right to do just that.

He was dressed all in black. Black pants, black pullover shirt and black leather coat. Maybe it was all that black attire that made his eyes stand out. They were so blue. Cold, hard. Demanding.

She remembered that he'd been hurt the night she had given birth to Aidan. He'd used a cane and could barely walk. But he didn't seem at a disadvantage now. She couldn't say the same for herself. He outsized her and no doubt had years of martial arts training. Still, she had something he didn't. A maternal instinct to protect her son.

Brenna forced herself not to panic. She thrust her hand in the diaper bag and located her cell phone. She was about to call 911 when John Cena caught her wrist and took the phone from her. He also took her keys with the pepper spray and the diaper bag, shoving all the items on the floor next to him.

When he moved, his leather coat shifted, just a little bit. Enough for her to get a glimpse of the shoulder holster and gun tucked beneath it. But then, he probably didn't go many places without that firearm.

Brenna lifted her chin and put some steel in her expression. There was no way she was going to let this man take control of the situation. "Get out!" She ordered.

"Soon, I came to pick up my bathrobe. You took it with you when you left Fall Creek."

So, he obviously knew who she was. Not that he would likely forget delivering a baby on his brother's front porch. He was also obviously good with the sarcasm. Calm and cool under pressure. Unlike her.

Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might leap out of her chest. Brenna couldn't let him see that fear, though. For her baby's sake, she had to get this man out of her car. Somehow. And then she had to get far away from him so he could never find her again.

"I'll mail you the robe." She informed him. "Write down your address and then get out of my car."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. It didn't soften the rock-hard expression on his square jaw or high cheekbones. But that expression did soften when he glanced back at the infant seat. Brenna's heart dropped to her knees. God, this couldn't be happening. She'd been so stupid to go his brother's house that day. Now, that stupidity might cost her everything.

She couldn't physically fight him off, though she would try if it came down to it. However maybe she could defuse this awful situation with some lies.

"I'm grateful to you for delivering my baby." She said, hoping that it sounded sincere. Because she was sincere about that. The rest, however, was pure fabrication. "I went to your brother's house because I was driving through Fall Creek and realized I was in labor. I saw the MD sign on his mailbox and stopped."

He turned in the seat, slowly, so that he was facing her and aimed those blue eyes at her. "How do you think I found you, Brenna Geller?"

She froze. Gave it some thought. And her mouth went bone dry. Because she couldn't speak. She shook her head.

John Cena calmly reached over, locked the door, retrieved her keys and started the engine. He turned on the heater and waited until the warm air blew over them before he continued.

"I had DNA tests run on the blood you left on the porch." He explained.

Of course he had. John Cena was a man who thought like a criminal. Too bad she hadn't wiped up after herself, but then she hadn't exactly had the time or energy for that chore. Brenna had barely been able to get Aidan and herself to the car so she could get to the hospital in San Antonio. During that entire drive she'd been terrified that Cena would follow her. His injury had probably prevented that from that happening, it was highly likely that he hadn't been able to drive.

"I'm sure you know that your DNA is on file because of your former job as a counselor in a state women's shelter." He continued. "Once I had your name, I found an address for you here in San Antonio. You'd moved, of course. So, I took a different approach to locate you."

And Brenna thought she might know what that approach was. "You hacked or bribed your way into the appointments of pediatric clinics all over the city because you knew that I'd be taking my baby in for a six weeks' checkup."

He nodded. "Hacked is not quite the right word. I had police assistance to help me put all the pieces together." He lifted his hands, palms up in an exaggerated gesture. "And here we are."

"Not for long." Because she needed something to do, Brenna clutched the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Look, if you want money because you delivered my baby—"

"You know what I want and it's not money. It's not my robe, either. I want answers."

Brenna glared at him. "No. No answers. Get out of my car and out of my life."

"That's not going to happen."

He leaned closer, violating her personal space. He smelled dangerous. And very virile, which she was sorry she'd noticed. "Let me help you with those answers." John continued. "I already know a lot about you, Brenna Claire Geller. Born and raised in Dallas, you've had a rough life. When you were fifteen, two drug-crazed teen burglars broke into your home, murdered your parents and left you for dead."

Brenna automatically touched her fingers to her throat, to the scar that was still there. It was faint and barely visible now. Unlike the invisible wounds beneath. Those scars would never fade.

"I don't have time for a trip down memory lane." She grumbled. She forced back the brutal images of that night in Dallas. "I need to get home. My baby will be waking up soon and will want to nurse." Now she leaned closer, hopefully violating his space. "Nurse, as in breast-feed. You might make your living doing shocking, violent things but I'm guessing you'd be very uncomfortable watching me nurse Aidan."

Something went through his eyes. "Violent things?" He looked genuinely insulted.

Brenna wanted to curse. Now, he knew that she was aware of who he was. She just kept getting deeper and deeper into this hole she was digging.

"I own a private security company." He corrected.

Since there was no going back, Brenna charged forward. "You lend your services and your guns in war zones." She challenged.

"Occasionally." He lifted his shoulder. "When it's necessary to rescue people and protect American interests abroad."

Brenna huffed. "That's semantics. You're an international hired gun."

"I'm the good guy." He hitched his thumb to his chest.

"That's debatable."

"Says who?" he fired right back at her.

Now she put her thumb to her chest. "Me."

"We have strong opinions about each other." He concluded. "Care to hear my opinion about you?"

"No." And Brenna didn't even have to think about that.

"Tough. You're going to hear it. A little less than a year ago, right around your twenty-eighth birthday, you decided that you wanted to have a baby. There was no man in your life, no immediate prospects of marriage, so you went to Covington Birthing Center just outside San Antonio. They have a fertility clinic there and you made arrangements to be artificially inseminated. It was successful. You got pregnant on your first try."

He knew. Mercy, he knew.

"How did you learn that?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Careful investigative work over the past six weeks."

"It's not illegal to use artificial insemination to become pregnant. It's a private matter. And it's none of your business."

Even though she knew it was his business. Hopefully he didn't know that.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and waited a moment. During that moment, he looked even more annoyed. "I don't know why you did what you did, but obviously something started to go wrong. You got suspicious of the Covington Birthing Center. So days before the center was closed because of illegal activity, you made an appointment with your fertility counselor, and when the counselor left the room to get you a glass of water that you requested, you took some files from the counselor's desk drawer."

Brenna hadn't thought it possible, but her heart beat even faster. "If I did or didn't do that, it's still none of your concern."

"But it's true. I managed to get my hands on some surveillance tapes. You took two files."

That was correct. Unfortunately, it'd also been a mistake. Brenna had intended to take only her own file that day. She'd taken the other one accidentally because it had been tucked inside hers. She wished to God that she'd never seen that file.

"The police have already questioned me about this." She admitted. "They agreed that I was right to have had doubts about Covington. I gave them the files I'd taken and they let me go. End of story."

"Not even close. What made you suspicious of Covington?"

She almost refused to answer, but maybe he knew something about this, as well. Maybe the tables would be reversed and he could provide her with some answers.

"Someone was following me." She explained. "Then once, someone actually tried to kidnap me. After that incident, I went to the police and they found a miniature tracking device taped on the undercarriage of my car. By the, there were rumors that Covington was being investigated for illegal adoptions and lots of others criminal activity."

He shrugged. "So why take the files?"

"I thought I was just taking my file. I wanted to make sure there were no…irregularities. Because by then I'd gone through the insemination and was nearly five months pregnant. I wanted to verify that they hadn't done anything that would ultimately harm my baby."

"And you know the other file that you took was mine." He tossed out there to her.

Because Brenna didn't think it would do any good to deny it, she nodded. "I don't know how it got mixed in with mine."

"Don't you?"

Surprised with his increasingly ice accusations, she shook her head. "No, I don't."

"Did you read the file?" He demanded.

"I glanced at it, because I didn't know what it was at first. I thought it was part of my records."

He made a sound to indicate he didn't believe her. "I'll bet you did more than glance. But then, you already knew what was in it, didn't you? You're the reason that file was at Covington."

Stunned, Brenna stared at him. She hadn't expected him to say that. Nor did she know why he'd said it. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you do. Five years ago, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma. I'm cured now but because my treatment could have left me sterile, I decided to stockpile some semen. It was stored in Cryogenic Labs, here in San Antonio. That file you took, the one tucked inside yours, was my file from Cryogenic." He paused. "What I want to know is why you did it?"

Tired of the ambiguous questions, Brenna threw out her hands. "Did what?"

He huffed as if he thought she was stonewalling him. But she wasn't. Brenna had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

"He's your nephew." He said, enunciating each syllable. "That's what you said right after I told you that you'd had a son. You said that because—"

"I was delirious." Her voice was so filled with breath that it hardly had sound.

"No. You said it because you thought it was true. You thought I was my brother. Therefore you thought my brother had a nephew. And since he's my only sibling, there's only one conclusion I can draw from that."

John Cena stared at the carrier seat. "Judging from what I've uncovered, the little boy that I delivered is my own son."

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two:

"My son." John mumbled, in case Brenna Geller hadn't heard him.

But, of course, she had heard every word. She sat there, shaking her head and looking…terrified. That wasn't quite the reaction he'd expected. He'd thought she would at least look a little guilty.

"Why did you do it?" He asked. And this time, he would get an answer.

"Do what?" She argued.

He groaned. He was already tired of this game. "Why did you use my semen to have yourself inseminated?"

"I didn't" And there wasn't a thread of doubt in her denial. "I asked for an anonymous donor."

Figuring that it would intimidate her, he stared into her eyes. Memorable eyes. As was the woman herself. Despite what he thought about her—and his thoughts about her were pretty bad—John had to admit that Brenna Geller was damn attractive. It was in part the hair, he decided. He'd always been a sucker for a blond and she had that in spades. Her hair was long and thick; it framed her face.

However it was also her mouth that caught his attention. Full and lush. Nothing aristocratic about that part of her anatomy. That mouth stirred something primitive and male deep inside him. But he wouldn't let that get in the way of what he had to do. Besides, he didn't need another blond in his life.

"I was shocked when I saw your file, because I'd requested someone with dark color hair." She paused and stared at him. "Mercy, do you actually believe that I arranged to make you my baby's biological father?"

"You bet I do?"

Well, he'd believed it until a few moments ago, anyway. Now, after seeing her shocked and disgusted reaction, John wasn't so sure. He hoped like the devil that her mouth and hair weren't responsible for this wavering of his beliefs. Just in case it was, John forced himself to remember that all the evidence made her look guilty as sin.

"I would never choose a man like you to father my child. Never."

That stung, but John tried not to be insulted. From her point of view, he was a mercenary. That wasn't even close to what he did for a living, but to correct her would mean explaining things he couldn't get into. Best for Brenna to believe the mercenary part rather than know the truth. Some secrets should stay secret. Not hers, of course. Because her secret involved him in the most personal way.

"So, you didn't arrange to use the semen I'd stored at Cryogenics?" He clarified.

"No, I didn't arrange it, and if I'd known, I would have stopped it before the insemination."

John continued to push because he still wasn't convinced she was telling the truth. "When did you find out I was the anonymous donor?"

Her gaze lifted slowly and met his. "When I saw your file. By then, it was too late. As I said, I was already five months pregnant."

He studied her, thought about it. She seemed sincere, but that didn't mean she was. Someone had arranged this and Brenna Geller was the most likely candidate. Maybe if he discovered her motive all the other pieces would fall into place. Which would be a good thing. Because so far, he hadn't been able to figure out much.

"Did you think if you had my baby, that you could blackmail me in some way?" he asked.

She looked at him as if he'd grown a third eye. "Excuse me?"

"Blackmail?" John repeated.

"And why exactly would I want to do that? I have money. As you probably know, I was the sole heir to my parents' estate and it was worth several million. I can live quite well for the rest of my life."

Yes, he did know that. "Maybe you wanted even more money. Or maybe you wanted to have some psychological hold over me because you feel I've wronged you. Or you feel that I owe you something. Maybe you're connected to someone involved in a past case that I worked on."

She huffed. "You're sounding paranoid."

He had a reason for that. "My ex-girlfriend made me paranoid about females in general. She used to like to follow me and make my life difficult."

Her chin came up. "Well, I'm not your ex-girlfriend. And I had no idea who you were before I saw the file that'd been tucked inside mine."

"You're sure?" John pressed.

"Dead sure. Plus, the reason I chose insemination was so I wouldn't have any moral or personal obligations—or for that matter, any contact whatsoever—with the sperm donor. That's all you are to me, John Cena. A sperm donor. It doesn't matter if there was some kind of mix-up at Covington. It doesn't matter what you think I've done. You have no part in my life or Aidan's life. Now get out of my car."

Aidan. For some reason, hearing the baby's name packed a huge wallop. John had experienced a similar feeling when he first held the little boy in his arms. Now, that little boy had a name. Aidan. And he was sleeping in the backseat just a few feet away.

John couldn't see the baby because the infant carrier seat was facing away from him. And he was reasonably sure that it wasn't a good idea for him to see his son. Not just yet, anyway. Not until he'd straightened out a few things with the boy's mother. Who might be actually telling the truth?

And this time, John knew it didn't have anything to do with her hair and mouth. Nope. She was making sense. Well, sort of. She was making as much sense as there could be in their situation.

"If you didn't set all of this up, then who did?" John asked.

"I honestly don't know, but it could have been anyone at Covington. It's been all over the news about the illegal things they were doing there. Maybe that illegal activity included using DNA contributions without first getting permission from the donor."

Yeah, John had thought of that. And he'd dismissed it. "Someone forged my name on a release form at Cryogenics. That person also paid a hefty testing and processing fee to make sure the semen was still viable. It would have been a lot cheaper just to pay a new donor."

Her silence let him know that she was probably thinking about that. The silence didn't last long. From the backseat, there was a tiny sound. Like a little grunt. That grunt was followed by some movement. And then a kitten like cry.

Brenna put her forearm over her chest. Specifically, her breasts, and pressed hard. "Aidan's crying makes my milk let down."

He didn't have a clue what that meant, and his blank stare must have conveyed that.

"I have to feed him." She snapped.

"Oh."

Well, that left him with a dilemma. He couldn't leave, not until they had this mess, figured out. But the baby was obviously hungry. The kitten like sounds increased in both volume and intensity. And that wasn't all.

With everything else going on, John noticed the slow-moving dark-gray car that turned into the parking lot. Any car would have garnered his attention since the attack on him six and a half weeks earlier. But with the baby, John's concerns were heightened. Really heightened.

Man. This wasn't good. He needed to view what was going on here objectively, and he couldn't do that if he was worried about the baby. Still, he couldn't totally dismiss the emotions and feelings that came with unexpected fatherhood.

Brenna must have noticed his mental battle because she followed his gaze to the gray car that was now one row over from them. "Do you know the person in that car?"

"I don't think so."

Her breathing was suddenly a little choppy. "Maybe it's your ex-girlfriend?"

"No." But he almost wished it was Leighanne DiBiase. The alternative scenarios were much, much worse than running into a lying, scheming, psycho ex with a penchant for stalking.

John had been on the job for nearly seven years. And never once had the job come home with him. Not until six and a half weeks ago. Then, he'd been shot in the leg while doing target practice on Christmas morning in the woods near his former training facility.

But was the job responsible for that and had the job followed him here? Had someone associate with the mission sent an assassin to try to put another bullet in him? He didn't want to believe it was possible, but he was having a hard time coming up with theories that didn't involve his last mission. Or Brenna Geller.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three:

"See what you can do to soothe the baby." John insisted when the cries became louder. He eased his gun from his leather shoulder holster and fastened his attention to the gray car. The windows of the vehicle were heavily tinted so he couldn't see the driver. The license plate had been obscured with mud.

"Oh, God." He heard Brenna say.

His attention snapped to her. She was looking at the gun and, judging from her expression, she didn't care much for it. Tough. He wasn't putting it away.

Brenna drew in a series of sharp breaths and it seemed as if she were on the verge of hyperventilating. "Phobia." She managed to say through those sharp breaths

John shook his head. "What?"

"Phobia. A huge one. About the gun."

She wasn't kidding, either. He could see the sweat pop out above her upper lip. She was shaking. Actually shaking. John had read the police report of the incident involving the death of her parents fourteen years ago. Guns had been used. And a switchblade.

John rethought that part about keeping his gun drawn. He didn't want her to craze out on him. He eased his gun back inside his coat so that it would still be ready to use but would be out of sight.

"Thank you." She whispered.

John pushed that emotional response aside and tried to come up with a solution to this possible problem. His first instinct was to put Brenna in the backseat with the baby so he could drive away. But it was broad daylight and they were outside a pediatric clinic. An assassin wasn't likely to make his or her move here. He hoped.

"Something is wrong." She insisted.

She reached for her diaper bag. Without taking his eyes off the car, John snagged her wrist. He didn't know if she had another can of pepper spray stashed inside and he didn't want to take the chance that she might use it on him.

"I'm getting a pacifier." She informed him through clenched teeth. "I don't want to sit here in this parking lot any longer. Not with that car inching toward us like a killer shark."

John heard something in her voice. Not fear. But familiarity with fear. Then, he remembered her saying that she'd been followed and that someone had planted a tracking device on her car.

"How about an ex-boyfriend?" John asked. "Is there one in the picture?"

"No." She located the pacifier, reached over the seat and apparently put it in Aidan's mouth. It must have worked because the baby's crying stopped. 'I'm leaving now. Get out."

"We're leaving. I'm not getting out. This isn't a good time for you and Aidan to be alone."

Brenna didn't argue. She strapped on her seat belt, threw the car into gear and backed out of the parking space. She didn't waste any time. Nor did she panic. Brenna drove away from the clinic, took the first turn to the right and then made an immediate turn left on the next street. She continued the process for four more blocks, all the while checking the rear-view mirror.

"You've done this before." John commented, staring into his side mirror. He didn't see the gray car but that didn't mean it wasn't trying to follow them.

"I told you about the problems I had with exactly this sort of thing."

Yes, she had. And it was also a matter of police record. Still, there were things that the police records didn't tell him. "What happened when someone tried to kidnap you?"

"It was terrifying." And that's all she said for several long moments. "Early one morning he I stepped outside to get my newspaper, a van pulled up in my driveway. A person wearing a ski mask and bulky clothes came rushing out of the van and tried to use a stun gun on me. I threw the paper at him. I must have hit him or her in the eye because the person stopped. That's when I ran back inside. My neighbor saw the whole thing and yelled out for help. The person got back in the van and sped away."

John didn't want to know how scary that must have been. Pregnant and with someone out to get her. It was even more unsettling when he factored in that Brenna had been carrying his child at the time. That meant the moron in the van had put his son at risk. John intended to find that person soon.

"When did all of it start?" He asked. "When did you first notice someone following you?"

"About the time I was inseminated."

Well that was interesting. John didn't think the timing was a coincidence. But what did it mean?

"I have no ex-boyfriends. No enemies. The men who killed my parents died in a shoot-out with the cops." She made another turn and headed for the main highway. "I thought, after I learned that you were the sperm donor, that it might be connected to you."

He'd considered that, too, but he wanted to hear how she'd reached that conclusion. "How?"

"Maybe you riled the wrong person. Maybe he or she thinks they can use my baby to get back at you. Blackmail, of sorts."

"Now who's sounding paranoid?" He muttered. But he couldn't dismiss it.

"That's why I went to your brother's house in Fall Creek. I read that he was doctor, that he had a normal life. Unlike you. He had an interview on a medical site and he said that you and he were estranged."

Because that's what John had told his brother, Adam, to say. It was his attempt to keep Adam out of harm's way in case one of John's missions went wrong and someone wanted to use his brother as leverage to exact revenge against John.

"I thought it would be safe to go to your brother and try to figure all of this out." She concluded. "I was obviously wrong."

"You were wrong in one way." His brother probably couldn't have helped. But if she hadn't gone to Fall Creek, John might have never known that he had a son. A son who needed protecting.

Of course, there was a flip side to this. His son might need protecting because John had helped bring the danger right to him. Hell. Was this all his fault?

"I had a job a little more than seven weeks ago." He explained to her. He chose his words carefully. "A businesswoman was kidnapped in South America. Her family hired me to get her out. I did. The day after I returned to Texas, someone shot me. That's why I was using a cane in Fall Creek. I'd gone to my brother's house to recuperate."

Her breath stilled, but he could see the pulse hammer on her throat. "I don't think my shooting is connected to you." He continued when she didn't say anything. And he hoped to hell that he was right. "After all, someone has been following you for months. So, the questions are—who's been doing that and why?"

Brenna shook her head, plowed one hand into the side of her thick hair to push it away from her face. "I thought maybe someone from the Covington Birthing Center was following me because they believed I had some evidence of their crimes."

"Okay. That's possible."

"Then why follow me now?" she wanted to know. "The people who did illegal things at Covington have all been arrested."

"Maybe not. Maybe there's a straggler."

Her eyes widened. "What does that mean?"

"Someone who was doing illegal stuff but wasn't caught with the rest. Someone who doesn't want their illegal activity to come to light because it'll land his or her butt in jail."

She nodded. "And maybe that's the person who forged your name on the release documents and moved your file from Cryogenics to Covington."

She took the ramp that merged into Highway 281, a major thoroughfare of the city.

"Exactly." John turned his ear toward the baby to make sure he wasn't in need of a feeding. But Aidan was apparently resting comfortably. Unlike Brenna.

John couldn't help but notice the dampness on the front of her sweater. Right in the vicinity of her left nipple. She apparently had sprung a leak. He hoped that wasn't painful. And then he questioned why he had his mind on that and not their situation. Remedying that, John went to the next question on his mental list. "Did you ever see the person following you?"

"Once. I got just a glimpse. It happened right after I went to the police station to turn in the files I'd taken. The person was in the parking lot."

John hadn't read that in the police reports. "By any chance was it a dark-gray car?"

She shook her head. "Black. But the tint on the windows was heavy. When I spotted the car and realized that it was someone following me, I stopped. I figured I was safe in the parking lot of the police station so I sat there for five minutes, and then this motorcycle bumped into the black car. The driver let down the window. Just for second. And that's when I got a glimpse of her right before she sped off."

John latched right on to that. "She?"

"Oh it was definitely a woman. Blond hair, fair skin. Heart shaped face."

With just that brief description, a really bad thought went through his head. "Describe her hair."

"It was long past her shoulders and fully. She didn't look like a criminal. From what I could see of her, she was well dressed. And the car was top of the line and very expensive."

John silently cursed.

"What's wrong?" Brenna asked. "Do you know this woman?"

He didn't answer. Because in this case a picture was worth a thousand words, he grabbed his Iphone from his pocket, entered a security code and began to search through the old files and photos. He finally found what he was looking for. John brought up the image on the screen and leaned it toward Brenna so that she could see it.

"Is that the woman you saw in the parking lot that day?" He asked.

Her eyes widened and she pulled off the side of the road into the emergency lane. She took the phone from his hand and studied the image. "Yes, I think it is. Do you know her?"

"Oh, yeah." John knew her all too well. "That's Leighanne DiBiase, my scheming, psycho ex-girlfriend."

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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four:

Brenna tried to come to terms with what John had just told her, but it was a lot to absorb. The woman who'd followed her and made her life a living hell was John's ex-girlfriend? Part of her was pleased that she finally had a name to associate with the frightening things that'd happened to her during the past year. But another part of her was confused and not at all certain that this woman was actually responsible. There were things that just didn't add up.

"Why would Leighanne DiBiase follow me and try to kidnap me?" Brenna asked.

John didn't know the answer to that. "She's capable of doing something like this." He said. But then, he shook his head. "Well, maybe she is. I never pegged her for a kidnapper. But the subterfuge. Following you. The planting of a tracking device. That's Leighanne."

"It still doesn't explain a motive. I don't even know this woman. Besides, it could have been a coincidence that she was in the black car at the police parking lot on that particular day."

"When Leighanne is around." He mumbled. "Bad things aren't usually a coincidence."

Aidan began to fuss again and Brenna knew she had to feed him soon. But where? She didn't like the idea of taking John back to her house. Besides, she was a good fifteen minutes from home and she doubted that her son would want to wait that long for dinner.

"Take this exit." John instructed. Brenna gave him a questioning glance. "Aidan's hungry." Was John's response. Since Brenna couldn't argue with that, she did as he said and took the exit. "Pull into the parking lot of that fast food place." He continued. "You can feed the baby while I watch out for that gray car and make some calls. I'll find out if Leighanne is behind this."

Because Aidan's cries were getting louder and more intense, Brenna followed that order, too. She parked her car, unfastened her seat belt and reached for her son. She froze. Because she realized that John would see Aidan. It was stupid and it didn't make sense, but she was afraid if John saw the baby, then there might be some kind of instant bonding. But then, maybe that had already taken place on the afternoon he'd delivered Aidan.

After all, John had been the first person to hold her son. Brenna refused to think of Aidan as their son. No, John Cena was simply the sperm donor.

Keeping the blanket over Aidan, she unstrapped him from the infant carrier, scooped him up and brought him into the front seat with her. One glance at John and she realized he was watching her every move. Brenna had a remedy for that. She shoved her modesty aside, lifted her sweater and opened the cup clasp of her nursing bra. Her left breast spilled out.

John looked away and took out his phone. Finally she's won one of the little mental matches going on between them. As Brenna known he would do, her son latched right on to her nipple and began to nurse. That not only meant he was being fed but with Aidan's face pressed to her own body, John couldn't see him.

Mercy, she felt petty. But she wasn't going to blindly trust this man who'd charged into her life. Brenna had made that mistake when she was fifteen. She'd trusted a stranger. And that trust had gotten her family killed and had left her a dysfunctional mess. She was not only claustrophobic, she had an almost paralyzing fear of guns and knives. It was entirely possible she would never fully trust again. And there was only one person she could blame for that. Herself.

"I'd like to take you to my house." John said as he pressed some numbers on his tiny phone.

"No." And Brenna left no room for argument. "If your ex-girlfriend is behind this, then your house is off-limits. For that matter, so are you."

"I own several places." He ignored her jab. "Leighanne doesn't know where this house is."

"I'm still not going there with you. After I'm done nursing Aidan, I'll make sure no one has followed us and then I'll drop you off somewhere so that Aidan and I can go home."

And once there, she would lock the door, turn on the elaborate security system she'd had installed and not go out again unless it was absolutely necessary.

John didn't respond to that, either. That's because his call connected. Brenna heard him request. "Backup and a clean vehicle." And he gave the person the address of the fast food place where they were parked. He also ordered someone to go through the surveillance videos of the parking lot of the Morrison Pediatric Clinic, the place where Aidan had just had his checkup. And the place where the gray car had first followed them.

Of course there'd be surveillance videos of the clinic. She wished she'd thought of that. It might give her some proof as to who this person was.

"Why did you request a car?" Brenna wanted to know the moment he ended the call.

"There might be a tracking device on yours." He calmly answered.

Brenna's reaction certainly wasn't calm. She hadn't even considered that. Yet, she should have, especially since it'd already happened once before.

"The clean car should be here in about ten minutes. We'll trade out vehicles and I'll have this one searched to see if we can find something."

"If there's a tracking device—"

"I'm keeping watch." He insisted.

And he was. John had one hand on the butt of his gun and used the other hand to make a second call.

"John Cena." He greeted the person he phoned. "I need to speak to Katrina O'Neal. No, it's important. I'll hold for her."

Brenna recognized the name from the newspaper articles she'd read. Katrina O'Neal was the former San Antonio police sergeant who was now head of the task force to uncover the illegal activity that'd happened at the Covington Birthing Center. What Brenna didn't know was why John was calling her at a time like this.

"Do you think Katrina O'Neal will know something about who's been following me?" Brenna asked.

"Maybe. But even if she doesn't, I still have to consider that Leighanne is in this neck-deep. Trust me, we don't want Leighanne involved even in a minor way. She's got the money and the resources to do all sorts of nasty things. But then, so do I."

The last part sounded a little like a threat. If the woman was truly guilty, Brenna felt like issuing threats—and worse—herself.

"Katrina." John greeted a moment later. "I have a problem. I've found a possible connected between the Covington Birthing Center and Leighanne DiBiase. I need to go over some things with you. Could you possibly meet me at one-twenty-seven Oakmont Drive on the north side of town? It's only about ten miles from your office."

That was Brenna's address. Not that she was surprised that John already knew it. Did he also know that just his mere presence was crushing her heart? She wouldn't share Aidan with him. Aidan was her life. Her world. And she didn't want anyone else in that world with them.

Brenna continued to listen to his phone conversation, trying to sift through John's response to see if Katrina O'Neal could provide them with any info. But she was soon distracted from doing that. Aidan stopped sucking and she knew he was done with his dinner. She quickly fixed her bra.

Still trying to keep the blanket over him, she maneuvered him to her shoulder so she could burp him. The movement caught John's attention, and he watched the process for a moment before turning his attention back to their surroundings. Thankfully, Aidan gave a quick burp and Brenna strapped him back into his carrier seat.

"Kat will meet us at your house." John relayed when she got back behind the wheel. He glanced back at Aidan's seat again and slipped his phone into his jacket pocket.

"You really think Katrina O'Neal has any information about Leighanne?" Brenna asked.

"We'll see. She's been studying the records taken from Covington. There was a legal set of files, but the illegal activity was encrypted in various codes in a separate set of files. Kat's managed to break some of those codes—that's why she's head of the task force—but in some cases she has information but no names to connect to it. It's like taking dozens of puzzles, mixing up the pieces and then trying to put them back together."

Brenna understood the frustration. "Do any of those pieces actually point to Leighanne?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Her father, Ted DiBiase Sr., was one of Covington's main investors. He's in jail already for an unrelated crime. He claims he didn't know the clinic was shady when he put up the money."

"You believe him?"

"No. But there's no hard evidence to prove otherwise. Once I have you and Aidan settled and safe, I'll see if I can arrange a visit with my ex's father."

Brenna could definitely see the benefit of that, but it sounded like yet another involvement that she didn't want to have.

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five:

John turned and looked out the back window. "The police are still searching for one investor." John continued. "A man named Alberto Del Rio. Unfortunately, Del Rio has eluded them by staying at his residence in Mexico. There isn't enough evidence to extradite him, so the cops are just waiting for him to make a return visit to the States."

With every new bit of information that Brenna learned, she because sorrier and sorrier that she'd ever stepped foot in Covington. She wished she'd gone anywhere but there for the insemination.

"Alberto Del Rio." She repeated.

But the man's name rang no bells. It was the first she'd heard of him and she hoped it would be the last. She didn't want anyone associated with Covington involved in what was going on with her now. Of course, the alternative wasn't much easier to accept. Because the alternative included a criminal, Ted DiBiase Sr. and his unstable stalker daughter, Leighanne.

John pointed to the sleek hunter green car that cruised into the parking lot and stopped next to them. "That's our new clean vehicle."

Brenna considered the risks of doing such a transfer, but if John was right, if there was indeed a tracking a device on her car, then the transfer needed to happen immediately before something else could go wrong. She didn't want another encounter with that slow-moving gray car that'd been in the parking lot of the pediatric clinic. She didn't want anyone else to find out where she lived.

A man with blond hair stepped out from the other vehicle. John reached over and unlocked Brenna's door. Unfortunately, his arm brushed against her right breast. Brenna reacted. She sucked in her breath.

"Sorry." He mumbled. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Her reaction definitely hadn't been from pain. Odd that even though she was a nursing mother, her breasts were apparently still capable of reacting in a pleasurable way to a man's touch. Brenna pushed that realization aside.

The other man worked fast. He opened Brenna's door and John got out, and then walked to her side of the car. She noticed the limp then. It was slight. But it was also an indication that he might not be a hundred percent healed as she'd originally thought.

The man with blond hair made the same smooth transfer with Aidan still in his carrier seat. In less than a minute John was behind the wheel and they were back on the road.

"That was one of your employees?" She asked. He nodded.

She considered asking more about his job but decided it was a subject best left undiscussed. Besides, she didn't intend for John to be in her life for long, so there was no need for her to learn anything else about him.

"So, what do we do next?" she asked.

"We go to your house. We get Aidan inside. And we'll wait for Katrina. She was going to make some calls. By the time she arrives, she might already have answers."

Well, that would help to speed things along. "Is it possible that your ex-girlfriend was also an investor at the Covington Center?"

"It's possible. Katrina has someone pouring through all the surveillance tapes that were confiscated from the center. We're talking months and months of tapes."

That was not what she wanted to hear. "So much for speeding things along." Brenna mumbled.

He glanced at her. "You know you're not going to just get rid of me, right?"

She didn't want to hear that either. "I know no such thing."

"I'm not going to leave my son—"

"He's not your son." She snapped.

John made a hummmp sound. "Well, I might have started off as a sperm donor but we're past that now."

No, they weren't. "I don't want or need a man in my life. That includes you."

"Then think of it this way. I won't be the man in your life, Brenna. I'll be the man in Aidan's life." He paused, waiting for an objection. "You're aware that you could be in danger."

A burst of air left her mouth, almost a laugh. But she was definitely not happy. "I'm aware of it. I'm also aware that I wouldn't be in danger if it weren't for you and your ex." He looked as if she'd slapped him. Brenna felt as if she had, too. "Sorry. You didn't deserve that last part. I mean, we haven't even connected your ex to this."

Silence. The moment crawled by. Before he finally spoke, "I have a theory."

That chilled her to the bone. "What?"

More silence. "Last year, when Leighanne and I were still together, I found out that she'd been taking fertility drugs. She also tampered with my condoms."

Brenna was starting to put together a mental image of this woman, and there was little about that image that she liked. "She wanted a baby."

He nodded. "It was an obsession with her. She believed a baby would bring us closer together. She wanted marriage."

"You didn't want those things." It wasn't exactly a question.

"Not with her. Leighanne knew that right from the start."

Brenna believed him. Despite what he did for a living, he didn't seem the sort of man who'd have to lie to get a woman into bed. "Did she get pregnant?"

"I don't think so. After I found the fertility drugs, we argued and she stormed out. A few days later, I got an e-mail from her saying that she would always love me but that she needed time apart so she could think. That was a little less than eleven months ago."

Around the time Brenna had undergone the insemination.

"Maybe Leighanne did get pregnant." Brenna concluded. "Maybe that's her connection to Covington. She could have had your baby there."

John immediately shook his head. "If she'd found some way to overcome her infertility and have my baby, she would have told me. In fact, she would have been delighted to tell me because she would have thought that would get us back together. It wouldn't have. I would have taken care of my child, but that care wouldn't have extended to the mother."

Brenna didn't believe that last part. After all, he was trying to protect her, a stranger. However, she didn't have the bad blood with him that Leighanne apparently did. They only had a severe case of dislike of each other. She hoped it continued.

Brenna needed all the emotional barriers she could get to make herself immune to this man that her body seemed interested in. Because she could still feel the tingle of his touch on her breast. Damn him.

He glanced at her and took the final turn into her secluded neighborhood. "But you're right about one thing." He continued. "Maybe that's how Leighanne is connected to Covington."

Now it was Brenna's turn to shake her head. "I don't understand."

"Leighanne could have been the one who arranged to have the semen transported from Cryogenics to Covington. That's how she intended to get pregnant."

"And then somehow I got the semen by mistake?" Brenna shook her head. "That seems like a huge blunder for a medical center to make."

"We're talking about Covington." He reminded her. "They made a lot of mistakes. Some intentional and some because they were trying to cover up their crimes."

He took the turn into her driveway. Her house wasn't a typical burbs kind of place. Brenna had brought the three-bedroom ranch-style house because of the privacy. The house was positioned amid several sprawling oaks, shrubs and hedges. Tonight, amid those oaks and in front of her house, she could see a woman. Brenna's heart started to race.

"It's all right." John assured her. "That Katrina O'Neal."

Brenna got a better look at the woman when they came to a stop directly in front of her. The tall, too-thin brunette seemed oblivious to the winter wind. She wore a black coat, unbuttoned and her bare hands were exposed. The wind whipped at her shoulder-length hair and her clothes. She seemed pale and frail. As if she wasn't all there.

"Katrina." John greeted as he stepped from the car. "I'm glad you came."

After checking that Aidan was still asleep in his carrier in the backseat, Brenna also got out, and John made introductions that Katrina dismissed by dropping a little bombshell.

"Ms. Geller, I've been going through the Covington files and I don't think the things that happened with your insemination were accidental."

Okay. Even though Brenna and John had just played around with that theory, it was a different thing hearing it confirmed. "So, what went wrong?" Brenna asked.

Katrina O'Neal opened her mouth to answer but that was as far as she got. Brenna saw the woman's eyes widen and she tried to figure out why Katrina had that reaction.

Brenna caught just a glimpse of the car out of the corner of her eye. A slow-moving gray car. The same vehicle from the parking lot of the pediatric clinic. This time, the passenger's side window was lowered about halfway. Not enough, though, to see inside the darkened interior.

Everything happened fast.

Almost a blur.

John yelled for them to get down. But he didn't wait for her to comply. He dived at Brenna and knocked her to the ground. He didn't stay there. He came up, with his gun drawn and ready to fire.

But it was already too late.

There was a thick, heavy blast from the open window of the gray car. The brutal sound tore through the otherwise quiet community and slammed right past where Brenna had just been standing.

But Brenna was no longer there and the bullet hit Katrina O'Neal instead.

And the gunman continued to fire.

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	7. Chapter 7

Okay, you guys have been so good with reading and reviewing this one, I decided to post another chapter today. So today you get two chapters. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Six:

John cursed, took aim and returned fire. He didn't stop with one shot. He sent a barrage of bullets at the gray car, all the while kicking himself for not having done more to protect everyone. Now, Brenna and Aidan were right in the path of danger and Katrina O'Neal was down, perhaps dying. He could blame himself for that. And later, he would. But right now, he had a more immediate problem that required his complete concentration. The gunman or perhaps gunmen, inside that gray car could still be trying to kill them.

John sent two more shots into the car. One slammed into the passenger side door, right where a gunman would be sitting if there was indeed more than one of them. The next bullet shattered the partially lowered window. The safety glass webbed into a sheet of broken pebbles and collapsed into the interior of the car.

The gunman was wearing a black ski mask. That was the only glimpse that John got of the long person shooting at them before the driver stomped on the accelerator and the car sped away.

John's instincts screamed for him to go in pursuit. Adrenaline and anger made him want to strike out, to retaliate, to get the SOB who'd put Katrina, Brenna and Aidan in danger. But he couldn't leave them.

"The baby." Brenna cried out, trying to get out from beneath him.

John literally had her flattened on the frozen winter ground so that she couldn't move and she obviously wanted to get up. He understood that. The baby was in the car and they had to make sure he was okay.

"The car's bullet resistant." John assured her.

But that didn't' assure her at all. Actually, it didn't assure him, either. Nothing would at this point except seeing for himself that his son hadn't been harmed. Keeping her eyes off of his gun, Brenna continued to struggle to get up and once he made sure that the gunman's vehicle was no longer in sight, John moved off her. She rushed to check on Aidan.

John kept watch for the gray car, in case, the gunman decided to return for another round, and he scrambled across the ground toward Katrina. She was alive but bleeding from the bullet she'd taken in the shoulder. Blood had already spread across her clothes and it was hard to tell the exact point of impact, but the injury looked close to her heart.

"Aidan's okay." Brenna shouted to him.

And despite everything else going on, John felt immediate relief. "Stay in the car." He ordered.

The bullet-resistant car would be safer than trying to get them into her house. Especially since he hadn't had a chance to check her place to make sure that no one was lurking inside. The last thing they needed was to run into another murder attempt.

He took out his phone, called 911 and requested police and an ambulance. He also called for backup from two of own men. They'd likely get there faster than the police.

"I'll be okay." Katrina mumbled.

John hoped that was true. Still, he didn't like what he saw when he pulled down the collar of her sweater and spotted the wound. The bullet had missed her heart, thank God, but her collarbone appeared to be shattered and she was bleeding out fast.

He took her neck scarf from her coat pocket and pressed it to the wound. "The ambulance will be here soon."

"Can I do something to help?" He heard Brenna ask.

The car door was open just a fraction, enough for him to see Brenna cradling Aidan to her chest. The baby was fussing, probably because his nap had been disturbed, but he looked unharmed. John said a quick prayer of thanks.

"I need to get Katrina to the front seat." He told Brenna. He purposely kept his gun at his side so that she wouldn't see it and have a panic attack.

Brenna nodded, reached over the seat and fully opened the front passenger-side door. John lifted Katrina as gently as he could. She moaned and grimaced from the pain.

John laid her inside on the leather seat while he continued to apply pressure to her wound. It wasn't an ideal way to treat a gunshot victim, but at least the vehicle would protect them from the cold and perhaps even a subsequent attack. In the meantime, he would do what he could to keep Katrina from bleeding to death.

"Are you okay?" He asked Brenna.

Their eyes met. For a second. He saw the fear and concern. "I wasn't hurt."

Maybe not physically. But the attack was the stuff of present and future nightmares. It would stay with her. And him. The only good thing he could see in all of this was that Aidan was too young to remember what they'd just experienced.

John heard the sirens in the distance. It wouldn't be long now before the police arrived and before Katrina could get the medical treatment she needed.

"Someone doesn't want us to learn the truth." Katrina whispered.

John had to agree with her about that. "We need to know who." So he could go after this idiot with every ounce of the rage he was feeling for the person who'd endangered his child.

"I'm close to getting that name." Katrina added. "I'll have it soon."

"I don't doubt that we'll find the truth. But for now, just stay quiet. Conserve your energy."

Katrina shook her head and ran her tongue over her chapped bottom lip. Her breath was ragged and thin. "The police found two sets of files at Covington—the legal set the Covington owners and investors created for the world to see. The real files were encrypted with different codes for different files. This afternoon, I finally broke the code on Brenna Geller's file."

That got his attention. Brenna's too. She peered over the seat at the woman.

"There was one notation that really stood out." Katrina continued. She waited until she took a deep breath. "In Brenna's file there was a notation about a surrogate request. A client paid a huge sum of money for the use of surrogate with blond hair and blue eyes. I don't know who this person is yet—they were identified by yet another code."

John got a really bad feeling about this.

"What was that doing in my records?" Brenna asked.

Katrina wearily shook her head. "I'm not sure, exactly. And it's more complicated."

The sounds of the sirens drew closer and John spotted the ambulance when it turned into Brenna's drive.

"Complicated." Katrina repeated. "Because Covington took money from both you and this other person who made the request. In fact, this person paid nearly ten times what you did and I think the reason for that was the surrogate wasn't supposed to know she was a surrogate. The client wanted to keep the arrangement a secret."

Brenna shook her head. "Why?"

"No reason given. At least, no reason that I've been able to get from the encrypted files."

John groaned. Because he knew the reason. He knew.

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven:

Brenna was still shaking. Just as she had done at the police station. And while giving her statement to the sergeant about the shooting. The shaking had continued on the ride from the police station to the hospital to check on Katrina. Of course, it'd only been three and half hours since she'd seen a woman gunned down in front of her own home. It might take weeks before the shaking stopped and her body returned to normal.

Thankfully Aidan wasn't having the same panicked reaction she was. He was sleeping soundly after his second nursing, since the ordeal. She hadn't minded the extra feeding. In fact, Brenna had welcomed it. It got her out of the hospital waiting room and into a private lounge off the nurses' station where she could finally have some downtime and try to smother the brutal images of that gunman.

Brenna heard the sound of someone moving around in the nurses' station so she snapped up the cup to her nursing bra and lowered her sweater, just in case someone walked in but she didn't put Aidan back in his carry seat. She needed to hold him a few moments longer because he was the ultimate reminder that she couldn't fall apart. Nor could she give into old fears and panic. She'd have to stay strong for her son.

She checked Aidan's diaper and discovered he was still dry. Then Brenna reached for her diaper bag, so she could get ready to leave her temporary sanctuary, only to realize she didn't have the bag with her. Oh, mercy. Not only were Aidan's extra diapers in there, so was her wallet and cell phone. She got up, searched around the fold-up chair where she'd been sitting. No bag. So she latched on to the carrier with her left hand and went back into the nurses' station. She immediately spotted the diaper bag on the floor next to the station desk.

She also spotted the pair of nurses seated at the desk, one of whom had shown her to the private lounge. The woman was now on the phone, and the other nurse was discussing something with a young couple standing directly in front of the desk. The nurses probably hadn't noticed the diaper bag because it was tucked just out of their sight.

Brenna also noticed a tall, lanky man in the passageway by the nurses' station. Even though he was dressed in green scrubs and likely a doctor or nurse, her heart went into overdrive. Simply because he was there, partially blocking her view and path, he felt threatening. It was a familiar reaction, one she couldn't totally control and she stepped back into the lounge. But he didn't even glance in her direction.

"Katrina O'Neal will be in recovery soon?" He asked the nurse on the phone.

She checked the computer screen in front of her, nodded. "She should be on the way to the PACU in the next ten minutes or so." She said. The woman continued her phone conversation as the man walked away. The PACU, the post-anesthesia care unit. That meant, hopefully, that Katrina come through the surgery just fine.

Brenna waited to make sure the man was gone, then cursed her wussy reaction. She couldn't keep doing this. She had to try to maintain some kind of normalcy for Aidan and that wouldn't happen if she thought of every stranger as the bogeyman.

She only hoped the shooter wasn't anywhere near the hospital. And while she was hoping, Brenna added a wish that Katrina O'Neal would be alright. She had enough guilt without adding Ms. O'Neal to the list. After all, the woman had been shot while trying to help John and her.

Brenna put Aidan back into his carrier, picked up the diaper bag and went into the corridor. John was there at the other end, on his cell phone. He was also pacing, but he stopped when he spotted her.

"Dig deep." She heard John say. It was an order. "Find out how the devil this could have happened. And get someone over here now just in case the police don't put a guard on Katrina O'Neal."

This time Brenna didn't mind John's orders because they weren't aimed at her and because Katrina obviously needed protection. They would also likely need to dig deep to find out what was going on. They had a lot of questions, few answers, and the answers they did have only created more questions.

"Katrina just got out of surgery." John let her know. "The doctor should be out soon to talk to us." He took the diaper bag and led her to the unoccupied seats on the far side of the room. She sat next to John and purposely put the carrier on the other side of her—away from him. The ploy didn't work.

"Is he okay?" John asked, looking into the carrier. He reached over her, his arm brushing against her breasts and used his index finger to pull back the blanket so he could see Aidan's face.

Brenna moved his arm away. "He just finished eating. He'll sleep for several hours now."

He frowned, probably because she hadn't let him touch the baby. "Does he need anything?"

"No. That's the advantage of nursing. I don't have to heat formula or wash bottles. And as for diapers I had some with me in the bag."

This time, John didn't touch Aidan. He touched her. He used his finger to push a strand of hair out of her eyes. It felt…intimate.

Brenna moved away again. No frown this time. But he did put some distance between them. John leaned his head back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "What about you?" He asked. "You have to be exhausted. It's nearly 10:00 p.m."

Yes, she was exhausted. With Aidan not sleeping through the night yet, she was usually in bed by nine so she could get up for his 2:00 a.m. nursing. The fatigue was only worse with the adrenaline crash that'd hit her earlier.

"I can wait until we talk to the doctor about Katrina." She let him know. Brenna owed the woman that much.

While she was waiting, she needed to figure out what she was going to do. The police hadn't offered any form of protection. They didn't have the manpower for it, they'd said when she brought up the subject. And she couldn't very well go home since her front lawn was a crime scene. With no family or close friends nearby, that left her with few options. A hotel, one with security. Or she could ask John for help.

She glanced at him. The total male intensity that frightened her. Brenna made her decision. She could check in to a hotel. Which for some stupid reason made her feel guilty. Why? Because she was shutting out John. But then, she didn't have a choice about that. For her own personal sanity, she had to shut him out. Yes, this situation was horrible and not of his own making. And yes, he probably thought he had a right to touch and see Aidan but it couldn't happen. Still, she did owe John something, too.

Brenna cleared her throat to get his attention. "I didn't say thank you for saving our lives."

He shrugged. "We got lucky. Let's hope Katrina is equally lucky." John glanced at her, unfolded his arms. "I had my crew go through your car and they found something."

That comment put her on instant alert. "What?"

"Someone had planned a listening device insides it, under the dash."

Brenna swallowed hard and tried to prevent her stomach from churning. "How long had it been there?"

"Not long. It looked brand-new. Perhaps someone hid it in your car when you were inside the pediatric clinic. I didn't get there until shortly after you'd arrived for your appointment."

She tried to process that. It seemed like a piece of a puzzle. Only in this case, lots of pieces were missing. "Before today, I don't think anyone had been following me for the past six weeks."

He stayed quiet a moment. "That might be true. The person might have been followed the same paper trail I did."

Oh, she hadn't thought of that. "And they got to my car ahead of you." She concluded.

"It looks like it." He turned in the seat and faced her. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but that's what I'm going to have to ask you to do."

Brenna didn't like the sound of that, either. "I'm checking into a hotel." She blurted out.

"I'd rather you not do that. I'd like to take you to one of my houses."

She was shaking her head before he even finished. "That wouldn't be safe."

"I've already told you that Leighanne don't know where this place is."

"So, you've said. But we don't know for certain that she's the one behind the shooting. It could be someone who's tracking your every move."

John drew in a weary sounding breath. "Here's what I think happened. Leighanne wanted to have a child with me because she thought it would save our doomed relationship. When she couldn't get pregnant, she put her plan into action—she broke up with me under the guise of giving herself some time to think and then she went straight to the Covington Birthing Center and requested they immediately find her a surrogate. One who looked like her?"

Brenna felt her eyes widen. "Are you saying that Leighanne thought I would be her surrogate?"

"She didn't just think it. She planned it and she had plenty of help from her criminal friends at Covington. She probably paid them to be on the lookout for a surrogate like you. She would have needed someone ASAP since the baby's birth couldn't have happened much more than nine months since I last slept with her. So when you walked in the door of the birthing center, your fate was sealed."

It took a moment to say anything, but her mind was racing with the possibility and the improbability of John's theory. "That doesn't make sense."

Didn't it? She didn't want it to make sense. There had to be obvious massive holes in that speculation. Because Brenna didn't want to think that someone could have intentionally done something like this.

John stood and it took a moment to figure out why he'd done that. Brenna soon spotted the doctor coming their way.

"John Cena?" The doctor asked.

John nodded. "How's Katrina?"

'She came through surgery just fine. The bullet broke her collarbone, then exited through her back. It did some damage to her shoulder. With some physical therapy, she should be close to perfect in a few months."

John shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you." The breath he released was one of relief. "I'll be back to check on her, but in the meantime, if she needs anything, my number is at the nurses' station."

Brenna waited until the doctor had walked away before she spoke. She was relieved that Katrina was going to be okay, but they had new issues on their hands. "I don't think your ex-girlfriend would have paid Covington to make me a surrogate. That's insane and criminal."

"Leighanne is capable of doing insane, criminal things—including using you. I figure she planned to kidnap Aidan when he was born and then try to pass him off as the son that she herself had delivered."

"Oh mercy." Brenna pressed her fingertips to her mouth. Her doubts about the theory were starting to melt away.

"Yeah." John took a deep breath. "The sickening thing is her plan might have worked, too, if you hadn't come to see my brother and delivered Aidan on the porch. If I hadn't been suspicious and if you hadn't gone into hiding. I believe Leighanne would have kidnapped Aidan and brought him to me. Telling me he was our baby."

Brenna couldn't speak and she felt herself start to tremble again.

"Once she'd done that." John continued. "I would have had Aidan's DNA tested, of course, to prove he was my son. And the DNA would have proven just that. What I probably wouldn't have done was requested a maternity test. Because it wouldn't have crossed my mind that Leighanne could have done something this heinous."

"But you really think she did?" Brenna asked her voice nearly soundless.

He didn't answer her. "You can't check in to a hotel." John insisted. "I know it's hard, but you have to trust me to keep you and Aidan safe."

"Wait a minute." And because she needed time to compose herself. Brenna repeated it. "Leighanne must have known a plan like this wouldn't work. After all, I wouldn't have gone to Covington if I hadn't desperately wanted a baby. I wouldn't have just stood still and allowed her to kidnap Aidan. I would have fought—"

Her gaze flew to John's she could see the confirmation in his eyes. A confirmation of what she'd just realized. He reached out, slowly and slid his arm around her. He pulled her to him. Brenna didn't resist. She was too numb and sick to resist.

"Leighanne would have killed you and taken Aidan." John supplied. "And I think that's what she still plans to do."

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	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight:

John unlocked the door to his north-side San Antonio home and disengaged the security system so that Brenna, Aidan and he could go inside.

He'd won the first battle with her. Thank God. He'd convinced Brenna to go with him to his house, but it was obvious she wasn't happy with the decision. She had a white-knuckle grip on Aidan's carrier seat and she eyed the place as if it were the enemy's camp. Which was no doubt the way she felt about it.

To her, he was the enemy. He was the last man on earth she would have chosen to father her baby. Plus, in the hours since their second meeting at the pediatric clinic, she'd been followed, shot at and forced out of her own home. And also during that time, Brenna had learned the reason that someone likely wanted her dead.

That was a lot for anyone to deal with, especially since the threat wasn't over. In many ways it'd just begun.

"Here's the guest room." John said, leading her through the Mexican-tiled kitchen and to the other side of the house.

The place wasn't grand by anyone's standards, but it had a homey feel to it, thanks to the decorator he'd hired. Everything was designed for comfort because it was his place to get away from it all. Nestled on the Guadalupe River amid four acres, it was still technically within city limits. Close enough to the city but also the perfect place for peace and quiet. He hoped.

John flipped on the lamps in the guest room, set the diaper bag on the floor and turned back the earth toned log cabin quilt on the queen-size bed. He did a quick scan to make sure the curtains were drawn and the tiny red security lights next to the windows were on, meaning the windows were locked and secured. Not that he had thought differently. Someone he trusted from his team had already checked out the entire house and grounds to make sure it was as safe as it could possibly be.

"There are pj's in the dresser that might fit you." He whispered so he wouldn't wake the baby. "And you should find a toothbrush and some toiletries in the bathroom. If you're hungry, just help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

She gave a crisp nod. "There's obviously no crib." He continued. "But I've arranged to have one delivered in the morning. Extra diapers and baby clothes are on the way too."

"That's not necessary." She practically snapped. "We won't be here that long and Aidan can sleep in the carrier tonight." She sat it on the center of the bed and turned back around to face him.

John heard the argument they were going to have before she even spoke a word. So he tried to diffuse it and alleviate some of her fears. "I'm not trying to worm my way into your life."

Her mouth was already open but that closed it. Temporarily. "It feels that way."

"I know. And I wish I could change that, but I can't. I need to keep Aidan safe until he can figure out what's going on. And since you're breast-feeding him, and since you're his mother, you're stuck here with him. For his sake." John added.

He considered adding for your sake, too but he instinctively knew that would only cause her more concern. Heck, it would cause him concern as well, because his focus had to be on Aidan, not Aidan's mom.

But he would get to know his son, and would be a father, even if that hadn't been Brenna's plan from the start. Now that he knew about Aidan, he couldn't go back and extract himself from the picture.

Brenna huffed, but that simple sound seemed to take the wind out of her sails. Or maybe she was just too tired to argue. John certainly was.

"Leighanne might not even be behind the shooting.' She said, rubbing her fingertips over her left temple. Obviously she'd given this some thought on the thirty-five minute drive from the hospital to the house. "We don't even know if we're looking in the right direction."

"Leighanne isn't the only direction." John agreed. "She's just a start. I also have my people looking for Alberto Del Rio."

"The man you mentioned earlier? You said he was an investor at Covington." Brenna supplied.

"Did you ever meet him?"

"No."

"I doubt he spent much time around the clients or patients. From what I can tell, he dealt with the criminal elements. Anyway, if he knew about your forced surrogacy, he could be trying to cover his tracks so there won't be anyone to testify against him."

Still. John's first choice of suspects was Leighanne.

Aidan stirred inside the carrier and John tried to bend closer to check on him but Brenna stepped in front of him. That probably wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, because her attempt to stop him resulted in them landing against each other, breasts against chest.

There it was again. That kick. His body reacted to her. A reaction that John shoved to the side. What he didn't do was more. Nope. Even if they had to stand there all night, he was going to see his son. He only hoped he didn't have to stand there all night. He was tired and, worse, he was physically reacting to the contact with Brenna.

Brenna reacted, too. He saw the pulse jump on her throat. Though that probably didn't have anything to do with attraction. At least he hoped it didn't. It was for the best that only one of them was going insane. If they both did, it was going to cause one helluva distraction that neither of them needed.

Their eyes met. And held for what seemed an eternity. The pulse on her throat jumped again. She moistened her lips. And she blinked. Before she finally moved to the side.

"Thank you." He mumbled, thought he couldn't be totally sincere. His voice no doubt reflected his frustration. It was going to be a long battle for him to have any rights as a father. Still the battle would be worth it.

John stared down at his son. He was so little. Yet that tiny face and body stirred the deepest emotions that John had ever felt.

"I didn't have immediate plans for fatherhood." He admitted.

She folded her arms over her chest. "You don't have to plan on it now."

He tossed her a glance to let her know that wasn't an option. "My love for him is already there. It's unconditional. Total. Complete. I'm not just going to turn away and pretend he doesn't exist."

Brenna didn't say a thing.

"He looks like me." John added, daring her to challenge that.

The silence lingered a while longer. "Yes."

John couldn't help it. He smiled. He didn't want to know how difficult it was for her to admit that even though she had choked on the word.

"He as your hair." She whispered. No choking sound that time. Just a lot of concern and even some feat. "Your eyes."

"Your mouth." He looked at her to confirm that. But it wasn't just a look.

They shared….something.

Something that only parents could share. Their merged DNA had made this precious child. That was normally preceded by an intimate sexual act.

But Brenna and he were strangers.

Strange. Even though they'd never really touched, because of Aidan they were forever bonded in the most intimate way. And that intimacy brought with it a whole host of concerns.

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	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Nine:

Mia, for one.

He felt…things for her. Feelings and desires that stirred deep within him. It was some kind of transference. Because she was the mother of his son. And that was the only explanation John intended to accept.

But then he shook his head. It was a sad day in a man's life when he started lying to himself. What he felt for her wasn't transference.

It was lust.

She was beautiful and he was attracted to her. However, lusting after Brenna was only part of his list of concerns. He had to keep her alive. He had to prevent another attack. He had to deal with her animosity. Her fears.

And then, there were his more immediate concerns for his son.

"Aidan's okay, right?" John asked. "I mean, the pediatrician didn't notice anything wrong?" With everything else that'd gone on, John hadn't even remembered to discuss the six weeks' checkup.

"He's very healthy."

"Good. After the way he started his life…." John didn't finish that. Because even if Leighanne had any part of this, she still hadn't contributed to Aidan's DNA.

Brenna stepped closer, so that she was right next to him. "I just thought of something. Something a little sick. If Leighanne has done what you think she has, then she's ultimately responsible for Aidan's conception."

'Yeah." Fate really had a sense of humor. "But she doesn't get a gold star for that. If I'm right about her, then her motives weren't merely to create a child but to create one she could use to manipulate me."

Brenna actually cringed. It was nauseating to think of how Leighanne would have treated Aidan once she had what she wanted. The manipulation and lies would have continued and John seriously doubted that she would have been much as a mother.

"I didn't go back to my house after I delivered Aidan on your brother's porch." Brenna said.

"Because you thought I'd follow you there." John knew where she was going with this. "But it might have saved you from Leighanne or whoever was following you."

She nodded. "I went into hiding again. I'd set up an emergency cash fund and I used that. No credit cards. No paper trail. Or so I thought. I probably should have left the state or the country."

John was thankful she hadn't, because he might have never found his son. But if she had left, then Aidan and she would have been safe.

His phone rang and when John glanced at his cell screen, he saw that the call was from Jay Reso, one of the PI's who worked for him. "Tell me you have some good news." John greeted the man. He stepped out of the guest room so that the conversation wouldn't wake Aidan. Brenna followed him into the nearby kitchen.

"No good news." Jay explained. "All I have is information that may or may not be helpful. I just came from Brenna Geller's house. The crime scene folks didn't find anything, and none of her neighbors could give even a sketchy description of the person inside the gunman's vehicle."

John cursed under his breath. He hadn't really expected an eyewitness account that would lead to an arrest but he had hoped that someone at least thought they saw Leighanne in that car. Without that, the police wouldn't have enough to get a search warrant to go through her house and vehicles.

"Did the police bring Leighanne in for questioning?" John wanted to know.

"They did, just about a half hour ago. She had her lawyer with her."

"Michael Cole?" John asked.

"That's the one. You know him?"

John tried not to groan too loudly. "I've met him. Cole is a former lover and very devoted to her. He couldn't stand the sight of me, and I'm about certain that he's not only in love with Leighanne, he'd do anything for her."

Jay thought about that. "You believe he could have been the gunman in the car?"

"It's possible. I hope the cops will swap his and Leighanne hands for gunshot residue."

"I'll make sure they do."

But both the P.I. and John knew that if the shooter had worn gloves, then there would not be any evidence of the residue.

"If Michael Cole was the shooter, then this might be important." Jay continued. "Before the shooting, you asked us to check out the surveillance videos of the Pediatric Clinic. I had a team do that and we saw the person who put the bug in Brenna Geller's car. It happened right before you got there."

Well, the good news was that he hadn't led this person to Brenna but that didn't give John much comfort. The person had likely followed an obvious paper trail of pediatric appointments. And that meant anyone could have done it.

"You have a photo of the person who planted the bug?" John hoped.

"No. The person was wearing bulky clothes and kept turned away from the surveillance camera. It was obvious that he knew about the security and didn't want to be recognized."

So, it could have been Leighanne's. Or not. With her money and resources, she could have hired someone to do the job.

"What about the vehicle the person used?" John asked. "Did you get anything from that?"

"No. But there might be something else. I went back through several hours on the surveillance tapes, and I saw someone in the parking lot about three hours before Brenna Geller's appointment with the pediatrician. The person seemed to be checking out the place, and then he parked one building over."

Oh, he did not like the sound of this. "He?" John questioned.

"It was definitely a man. And no ski mask. But I don't think it's the same person who put the bug in Brenna Geller's car."

John didn't like the sound of that either. Was it possible they had more than one person after them? "Was this other man driving the gray car?"

"No. A white SUV. There's no clean image of the license plates so I can't run them. The man stayed there in the adjacent parking lot until after you arrived, and then it appears he followed you and Ms. Geller when you left the scene."

John cursed again. He'd been so damn preoccupied with the gray car that he hadn't even noticed the white SUV.

"I took a still shot from the surveillance video." Jay continued. "I'm sending a photo over your cell. See if you recognize him."

John looked at the screen and loaded the picture. It took a moment for the grainy shot to appear in full, but it wasn't so grainy that he could see the man who was lurking around the parking lot. And the guy was definitely lurking—everything about his body language suggested that.

Brenna moved closer and had a look as well. "I've seen that man before."

"Yes. So have I. Well, I've seen another picture of him, anyway. That's Alberto Del Rio. He's obviously back in the country." John put the phone back to his ear. "Find Alberto Del Rio." He instructed Jay. "Take him to the police but I want to talk to him, too. Listen in on his conversation before and after he's at the police station. I want to know what he's up to."

"Will do, boss."

"That's Alberto Del Rio?" Brenna asked almost frantically when he ended the call.

John looked at her a saw the renewed panic in her eyes. "It is. Where have you seen him?"

Brenna swallowed hard. "He was at the hospital when I was nursing Aidan."

Because of her reaction, he slipped the phone into his pocket and caught on to her shoulders. "Did he threaten you or something?"

"No." Her eyes widened. "But he asked about Katrina O'Neal. He wanted to know where she'd be taken after surgery. And the nurse told him.

John grabbed his phone to call the hospital. He already had one of his team in the corridor outside the recovery area, but that might not be enough. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

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	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Ten:

Brenna lay in the bed of John's guest room and listened to his phone conversation. Something she'd been doing for the past half hour. Even though he was in the kitchen, she could hear snatches of what he said. Mainly, though, she could tell from the calm tone of his voice that everything was okay with Katrina.

His tone was in direct contrast to the calls he'd made the night before when they'd realized that Alberto Del Rio had been at the hospital. Then, John had made a flurry of calls to the police and his team so that security could be provided for Katrina.

Thankfully, the security hadn't been necessary. Alberto Del Rio hadn't shown his face again anywhere near the hospital and especially not near Katrina's room. Brenna figured the man had seen one of John's team members and had decided not to make a second attempt. But that left her with a question.

Did that mean Alberto Del Rio was after Katrina and not her? Or maybe Del Rio had no part in the shooting. Maybe he was there at the hospital for other reasons. But what would those be? Brenna didn't know but she figured all of this was connected to the Covington Birthing Center.

Aidan stirred, finishing his breakfast. That was Brenna's cue to burp him. Despite the fatigue headache and her not-so-rosy outlook for the immediate future, just holding Aidan close made her feel better. She kissed his cheek, and then changed his diaper. It was the last one in her bag, which meant she'd need a fresh supply within the next two hours.

Looking down at the bulky navy-blue pj's, she realized the same was true for her. She didn't even have a change of underwear. She'd have to ask John to get some things for her. Brenna was already dreading that. She hated relying on him, even though she knew she had no choice. Aidan had to come first and, whether she liked it or not, John would definitely protect Aidan.

With the baby nestled into her arms, she walked to the door. Brenna resisted stopping by the dresser mirror to check her appearance. For reasons she didn't want to explore, it was best that she looked her worst when she was around her "host"

Brenna found John in the kitchen. He had the phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder and he was making breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. The toast popped up in the moment he turned in her direction. Brenna took a deep breath

She'd braced herself for his possible reaction to her less-than-stellar appearance, but she hadn't braced herself for his appearance. No black suit this morning. He was barefooted and wore faded jeans and a plain white cotton tee shirt that seemed to accentuate every muscle in his body.

It was obvious that her responded to that mouthwatering physique in a basic, female kind of way. Fortunately, her common sense calmed that reaction. However, a different kind of feeling returned had apparently been surfing the net for baby information. The page on the screen was titled Your Baby's First Six Months.

That riled her. How could she stop John from wanting to be part of Aidan's life? But Brenna already knew the answer to that. She couldn't.

John said goodbye to the caller, slipped his phone into his pocket and tipped his head to Aidan. "Is he awake?"

Brenna glanced down to confirm what she already knew. "Not quite. He's still in that newborn stage, which you probably know means he sleeps a lot."

"Yeah." He glanced at the computer screen and then back at her as if trying to gauge her reaction. 'I read that. Lots of sleep. Nursing every three to four hours."

"That means lots of diapers changes, too. And he's out of them. I could use a change of clothes as well."

"They're on the way. One of my team collected some things from your house and is bringing them over."

"Oh, good." Though it made her uncomfortable to know that someone had gone through her house.

"Is that okay with you?" He proceeded to dish up two plates of food.

Brenna shrugged. "I'm a private person."

"So, I gathered." He deposited the plates on the table, along with some silverware and glasses of orange juice. "Is that because of what happened to your parents?"

She sat at the table when he did. "I suppose." She changed the subject. "How's Katrina doing this morning?" Brenna preferred that subject to anything personal about Aidan or her.

"Better." He glanced at Aidan when the baby made a small sound. "I still have guards at the hospital and they'll stay there until I'm sure she's safe."

"How long will that be?"

"Hopefully not long. I have team members who'll have a chat with Leighanne and her lawyer, Michael Cole. Oh, and the police managed to pick up Alberto Del Rio."

Brenna certainly hadn't expected that to happen so soon. "Really? They found him?" That helped her stomach settled down a bit.

"Yep. Near the hospital. They cuffed him and put him in lockup, but so far he's refused to say anything. He did make one phone call, though. Not to his lawyer, either. To Leighanne."

"They're friends?" Brenna asked, surprised.

"More like acquaintances.'

"So, maybe she called a lawyer for him." Brenna nibbled at the piece of buttered toast. "And maybe Alberto was after Katrina, because she's the one who could uncover evidence to send him to prison. He could have been the gunman in the car."

John sipped his juice and made a sound of agreement. And just like that, that particular conversation seemed to be tapped out. The room went silent. Uncomfortably silent.

Brenna suddenly became aware of how intimate it felt to be sitting in John's pj's in his kitchen, eating breakfast that he'd prepared. She also noticed John glancing at Aidan again. Her feeling of discomfort went up a significant notch.

"I'll get his carrier." She said, standing.

Much to her surprise, John didn't get up as well. In fact, he sat there, studying her as she went into the narrow hall and then the guest bedroom. She took several deep breaths before she put Aidan in the carrier and went back into the room. She sat the carrier on the floor next to her.

Still John didn't say anything, though it was clear from his intense gaze and bunched up forehead that he had something on his mind. He sat there, ate some eggs and finished off his juice.

Maybe that was his tactic: no conversation. Make her totally uncomfortable. Grill her with that stare. And then she'd start blabbing. Which is exactly what she did.

"I haven't let you hold Aidan yet because, frankly, I'm scared of you." Brenna heard herself say. She groaned, knowing she should have never opened up this subject for discussion, but unable to put it off any longer. Her ten-pound, eleven-ounce son was the equivalent of the six-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.

"You still think I'm a mercenary.'

"Aren't you?"

He calmly got up and poured himself some coffee. He offered her a cup by lifting the carafe, but Brenna declined, shaking her head.

"I do special rescues." John explained, returning to the table. But he didn't just return, he repositioned his chair so that it was closer to both Aidan and her.

"Define special rescues." Brenna insisted.

"I didn't think you'd want to know that."

She shook her head. "I don't really want to, but….." He waited a moment and the corner of his mouth lifted. Almost a smile. "But you know that you should learn everything about me because I'm Aidan's father."

"His biological father.'

"His father." There was some bite to his tone. "And I'm not the slimy criminal you think I am."

"Yes, because you do special rescues.' She mumbled, her sarcasm showing through.

"My team is contracted by the government when they need a quiet rescue."

Still skeptical, she shook her head. "And what exactly is a quiet rescue?"

"Let's say that the U.S. Department of State wants businesses, perfectly legal ones, to be established in a country where we have little or no diplomatic relations. And then let's say something goes wrong, like the head of the company is kidnapped. The government wouldn't want the word to get out about the kidnapping. That's literally bad for business. And they can't send in the military. Too much publicity. No CIA, either. Too much flak if the international press gets wind of it."

"So, they hire you?" Brenna asked.

"They hire me." He confirmed.

It sounded legitimate. But there was still the obvious objection. "Okay, so maybe I was wrong about you being a mercenary. But I wasn't wrong about the danger. Do you really think with what you do that you could be a suitable father?"

"Funny you should mention that. Two months ago I would have had my own doubts about fatherhood. But this injury changed everything."

Brenna was so surprised that it took her a moment to ask her next question. "You're changing your line of work?"

"Yeah. Out of necessity. Rescue agents need to be a hundred percent. I'm not. And my leg never will be. My top employee, Jay Reso, will buy the company and I'll concentrate on a new venture—bodyguard services.'

Oh she didn't like this. Without that dark, dangerous cloud hanging over him, John might actually seem to be more…human. And fatherly.

"Personal security can be risky, too." She pointed out.

"Not as much as you obviously hope it will be."

She frowned at his smugness. "But it still could be dangerous."

"Not really. I'll run the company from my laptop or this house." He said, using his cup to motion around the room. "But I don't want to get into a footrace with some badass who can outrun me because of this bum leg.

Brenna searched for another objection. There had to be one, but it didn't immediately come to mind. "You're certain that the injury is permanent?"

He nodded, sending Brenna's pulse and her fears galloping out of control. Because of John's injury and his future job plans, she could no longer have any career objection to his fatherhood.

But she sure as heck could have other objections. "I wanted a baby." She said. "I planned to have one. I never planned on having a father in the picture because I'm not much of a relationship person."

She hated that she sounded a little hysterical, even irrational, but damn it, her well-planned life was falling apart—again.

"I'm sorry." He sounded genuine, leaned closer. So close that she caught his scent—spicy deodorant soap and a musky, manly aftershave. "I wish I could make you feel safe."

Safe? That wasn't it. That wasn't why she objected to him. Or was it?

Just like that, she was fifteen again and all those horrible images and thoughts came flooding back. Her life had been almost perfect then. Plans for dating, college and travel. She had a phone book filled with friends' numbers. And then, she'd blown it.

"I don't think anyone can make me feel safe." She admitted and hated that her voice actually cracked.

He reached out and slid his hand over hers. "You weren't responsible for what happened to your parents.

It was an old argument, one she'd heard dozens of times. An argument she'd never been able to believe. "I met those two boys at the mall that day. I was attracted to one of them. Because he had that whole bad-boy, biker attitude. We talked. I flirted, a lot. I invited him over." Brenna had to pause a moment. "He came and brought his friend with him. And then later, he came again. That time he broke in."

John sipped his coffee and studied her. "You think because you flirted with him and invited him to your house that you contributed to the crime?"

"I know I did. If I hadn't invited him, he wouldn't have been there."

"You don't know that. He was a killer. He might have targeted you the moment he saw you in the mall. He might have come after you even if you hadn't flirted with him."

"There are a lot of mights in that." Because she couldn't bear his intense gaze any longer, she looked away. "But I'd love to believe it. I'd love for the nightmares and phobias to stop."

She moved her hand from his. Because she thought it was a good idea. Because she couldn't do this. She couldn't let these little heart-to-heart talks soften her feeling toward him.

"I don't usually talk about this." She said. "With anyone."

John nodded, leaned back in his chair and lounged again. "Then I feel privileged that you talked about it with me."

Alarms went off in her head. They told her to take a huge step away from him. "I won't make a mistake like that again. I won't ever be attracted to another dangerous man."

He just stared at her with those heavy-lidded sizzling-blue eyes. She figured those eyes alone had been responsible for many seductions. They were certainly responsible for the sudden warmth she was feeling.

"All right." She finally said. "I'll try very hard not to be attracted to a dangerous man."

And for some crazy reason, that confession made her smile. Sweet heaven, it was stupid. She'd just admitted to John that she was attracted to him and that was the last thing she should have done. That information in his hands could be very…dangerous.

Her smile was short-lived. But not the attraction. Brenna could feel it—simmering, growing. Oh, yes, it was growing, even though she knew it shouldn't. But she couldn't stop it.

John obviously couldn't, either. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, but that didn't work. Because he leaned in. Toward her. She caught not just his scent, but she got an even closer look at those eyes that were creating frenzy inside her. He was frowning when his mouth came to hers.

Brenna could feel that frown—along with the other things. The jolt of pleasure. The sensation of being kissed by a man who knew how to do it right. No pressure. No intrusion. Just the touch of his lips on hers.

For just a few seconds, she forgot all about the danger. She forgot that he was the enemy who could ruin her plans for the future. She forgot about everything. Everything but John.

Brenna just let herself…feel. She let the heat of the pleasure slide through her. For those few seconds, she didn't allow the old fears to win out. Still, she hadn't gone completely insane, either. Brenna pulled away from, forcing herself to stop. When she opened her eyes, she could see that John was still frowning. She was certain that she was frowning too.

And then she heard the sound. A car approaching the house. John and she jerked away from each other as if they'd been caught doing something wrong. Which wasn't far from the truth.

That kiss shouldn't have happened. No way. She was playing with fire and, in the case, the fire could cost her full custody of her son. But the car was a more immediate concern. No more passionate haze. No more thoughts of kisses. Her body went on as alert of a different kind.

The gunman could have found them.

"It's probably one of my men with the supplies." John assured her.

Oh. She'd somehow forgotten about that. Obviously, she'd forgotten a lot of things—like common sense and the consequences of doing something stupid. While she chastised herself, John took his holster from the top of the fridge and went to investigate. Brenna could see him looking out one of the side windows that framed the door. Brenna also saw the immediate change in his body language.

"Take Aidan and go into the bedroom." He ordered. He hurriedly put on his boots, drew his gun and used his cell phone to call for backup.

That didn't do a thing to steady her nerves. "What's wrong?"

"That's not my team member out there. It's Leighanne DiBiase and her lawyer, Michael Cole."

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	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Eleven:

How the hell had Leighanne found them? That was the foremost question on John's mind as he watched the car come to a stop next to his SUV. One thing was certain, he'd never brought Leighanne or Michael to the house. He'd never even mentioned the place to either of them. And on the drive from the hospital the night before, he'd taken a circuitous route to make sure no one had followed Brenna and him.

And no one had, he was positive of that. Yet, here were Leighanne and her lawyer friend stepping from a sleek red sports car as if they had come to pay a friendly visit. John knew there wouldn't be anything friendly about it.

Both his visitors were wearing coats. They'd both probably come armed. Leighanne was partial to carrying a snub-nosed .38 in her purse, and John had learned from a background check that Michael had a permit to carry concealed.

John was prepared to take them both out if they so much as reached for a gun. He wasn't going to put Aidan or Brenna at any more risk, and he would use every ounce of his training to make sure they stayed safe.

He checked to see that Brenna had taken Aidan to the bedroom. She had. What she hadn't done was close the door all the way. She was peeking out, probably waiting for him to assure her that all was well. He couldn't do that just yet.

Leighanne walked just a few steps ahead of her lawyer, and her attention focused on Michael rather than the house. They appeared to be arguing or at least having an intense discussion about something. Neither seemed on the verge of pulling out semiautomatics and launching an attack. But John prepared himself just in case that happened.

Leighanne kept her pace at a leisurely stroll. Maybe because she was wearing blood red stilettos and it was difficult to walk on the frozen ground. Whatever the reason, it gave John plenty of time to observe her.

She certainly hadn't changed in the past year. The same short, choppy blond hair. The same aristocratic demeanor. She was as high maintenance as they came. Once, John had been able to overlook that but that was before she showed her true colors. With the lies, drama-queen episodes and obsessive behavior, he'd learned that she was not worth the price of that high maintenance.

When the couple was within ten feet of the porch, John disengaged the security system, threw open the door and took aim at them.

"Don't come any closer." He warned.

The pair stopped, but if either of them had any fear of his weapon or his thoroughly riled expression, they didn't show it. They both stood there, staring at him. John glared right back at them.

"The police came to my home and interrogated Michael and I." Leighanne announced, adding a little huff. "They talked to us as if we were common criminals." She shoved her kid-gloved hands into the pockets of her expensive duster-length black coat. Anger flared in her blue eyes. That anger also tightened the muscles in her face.

Michael Cole wasn't faring much better. There were lots of anger there, too and it was obvious from the way he had his arm looped around Leighanne's waist that he was being territorial. Perhaps even protective.

"How did you find this place?" John demanded.

"Did you hear me?" Leighanne countered, not answering his questions. "The police interrogated us."

"They should have arrested you."

Leighanne's crimson-red mouth tightened even more. She took a step forward him. John lifted his gun to readjust his aim. That was apparently enough to stop her from taking another step.

"Leighanne and I did nothing wrong." Michael declared. "You have no right to treat her this way."

Since Leighanne's hands were in her pockets, and therefore perhaps on her gun, John kept his main focus on her. "You did nothing wrong? You didn't orchestrate an involuntary and therefore illegal surrogacy deal at the Covington Birthing Center?"

Leighanne flinched, as if he'd slapped her. "I'll tell you the same thing I told the police—no, I didn't."

"She had no reason to do that, John." Michael supplied. He was still glaring; the winter wind was causing his otherwise pale face to redden. "It was over between you too. Leighanne had already walked out on you when all of that happened at Covington."

The last part was true but because John was watching Leighanne so closely, he could see the longing still in her eyes. She might not still be madly in love with him, perhaps she never was, but he recognized that look. And he didn't think he was mistaken that she wanted him back. What he couldn't see in her face was guilt.

That was odd—John had been certain he would see it. Leighanne wasn't exactly an expert at hiding her feelings. Of course, maybe she'd developed a poker face in the past year.

"Are you saying you didn't follow this surrogate from Covington after she was impregnated?" John asked.

Ah, now there was some guilt in her eyes. It was followed by an admission when Leighanne nodded. "I did follow Brenna Geller, but only because I couldn't figure out what was going on. I thought she might have some answers."

John hadn't expected her to say that. "What do you mean?"

"Someone was following me, too." Leighanne insisted, jerking her hand from her pocket and flattening it on her chest. "And yes, I'd gone to Covington to inquire about hiring a surrogate—"

"So you could produce our baby." John interrupted.

Again, there was some guilt. Her cheeks reddened, as well, but it could have all been a result of the icy February wind. "Yes, but I changed my mind."

John gave her a flat look. "Did you?"

Leighanne's chin came up. "Yes. I didn't go through with anything other than the initial payment. But when I realized someone was following me, I went to Covington and demanded to know what was going on. I got a look at the computer records and that's when I realized that they'd assigned Brenna Geller as my surrogate."

"And why would they do that if you'd cancelled the request for a surrogate?" John asked, still giving her that skeptical look.

"The director said someone else had paid for the remainder of the fee and requested that the surrogacy continue as planned."

She seemed sincere. Seemed being the operative word. "Who would do something like that?" He pressed.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"Guess." John insisted.

She huffed and glanced down at the frozen ground. What she didn't do was answer for several moments. "Maybe Alberto Del Rio."

Again, she'd surprised him. He motioned with his gun for her to continue. However, it wasn't Leighanne but Michael who spoke for her.

"This might be linked to Leighanne's father." Michael explained.

John cursed under his breath. He didn't want to hear that. Nor was he sure it was true. Better yet, he prayed it wasn't true. He didn't want any of this connected to Ted DiBiase Sr. Ted had been another of Covington's big investors, but he was a lot more than that. He was a dangerous criminal who was thankfully behind bars for extortion and other unsavory crimes.

"Her father knew how upset she was about her breakup with you." Michael continued. "He also knew how much she wanted a baby. We think he might have continued the surrogacy process even after Leighanne called everything off."

It didn't make sense. Well, not normal sense, anyway. But this was Ted DiBiase, Sr they were discussing, and from what John had learned about the man, he was capable of just about anything. But this?

Why would Leighanne's father possibly want her to have a child with an ex-lover? Especially an ex-lover he'd never even met? John wasn't ready to take Ted DiBiase Sr. off his list of suspects, but he wasn't at the top of that list, either. Leighanne was.

'How did you know where I was?" John asked. "And this time, don't evade the question."

"I hired a P.I." Leighanne admitted.

She said it so quickly and so confidently that it didn't appear to be a lie. But John didn't believe her. Because, simply put, there were no records that linked him to this house. And that meant the most likely explanation for Leighanne finding him was that she or someone had managed to plant another tracking device on Brenna. His team had found the one in Brenna's car, but there had to be another. That was the only explanation that made sense.

Well, either that or Ted DiBiase Sr. Or Leighanne had managed to buy off someone on his team. John's stomach tightened. If that was the case, he was not going to be pleased to discover a traitor in his midst.

"So now that you know the truth." Michael went on. "You can call off the police. I don't want them knocking on either of our doors, again, understand?"

"As long as you're suspects—and, trust me, you are suspects—I'm sure the police will knock anytime they want."

"But I'm innocent." Leighanne declared. "I didn't go through with the surrogacy and I didn't have anything to do with that woman being shot."

"I don't believe you." John told her. "And the police don't believe you, either. That's why they questioned you.'

Michael took a protective stance in front of Leighanne. "If you don't drop these insane accusations, I'll file a lawsuit against you for slander."

"That's the best threat you can manage?" John didn't wait for an answer. He looked Michael right in the eyes. "Okay now, it's my turn. If you two don't stay away from Brenna Geller and her baby, I'll personally drag you into the police station myself. Then, I'll assign my entire team and every friend I have in the United States Department of Justice to make sure you're convicted."

"I'm innocent." Leighanne repeated, though this time there was some intense emotion in it. She didn't exactly stamp her foot on the ground, but it was close.

"Leave now." John ordered as he slammed the door.

He then locked it and engaged the security system in case the duo had brought bodyguards or gunmen along with them. He didn't want anyone sneaking up on them or trying to break in.

"I heard." Brenna said coming out of the bedroom.

John kept watch through the side window. He also kept his weapon ready in case Michael and Leighanne decided to linger around the place. And that's exactly what they seemed to be doing. They were standing in his front yard talking.

"As soon as our visitors are on their way, get the baby." John instructed Brenna. "But don't bring anything else with you. We have to leave."

Brenna walked closer to him and he could hear the unevenness of her breathing. "You think they found us because of another bug?"

"Probably, because no one followed us here last night."

"What about the supplies?" She asked. "Maybe Leighanne followed the guy that brought them?"

John hoped that wasn't the case but just in case, he took his cell phone from his pocket and called Jay Reso. "Please tell me you weren't followed." John said when Jay answered.

"No. I left San Antonio about an hour ago and have been driving all over the city to make sure no one's tailing me. Why? Did something happen?"

"Oh yeah. Leighanne DiBiase and Michael Cole are here at the house. They came to discuss their pleasure at being interrogated."

Thankfully, Michael and Leighanne got back into their car. What they didn't do was drive away.

"Well, they didn't follow me." Jay insisted.

"That's what I figured. Brenna and I are leaving within just a few minutes. When you get here, scrub down the place to see if there are any bugs."

"Will do. I'll be there in about ten minutes, maybe less. By the way, where will you go?"

"I'd rather not say over the phone." But John had a place in mind. He had to do something to get Brenna and Aidan out of danger. And right now, Leighanne and Michael were two people that he considered very dangerous.

John ended the call and looked at Brenna. She was a little pale but she wasn't trembling with fear, even though his gun was clearly in sight.

"I'm sorry." He told her.

"This isn't your fault." She tipped her head to the door. "And, according to them, it's not their fault, either. Do you believe them?"

John was about to give an unequivocal no, but he just didn't know. Leighanne had been convincing.

"I'll find the answers." John assured her.

John reached out and gently touched her arm, Brenna didn't back away. In fact she stepped closer, until she was side-by-side with him. She looked out the window.

"What if it was her father who did this?" Brenna whispered.

He didn't want to consider the possibility. But he couldn't put his head in the sand. "Ted DiBiase Sr. loves his daughter. He would have gone through with this if he thought it would make her happy."

"Then how do you explain the gunmen?"

"It's a stretch, but maybe DiBiase realized the baby wouldn't make Leighanne happy after all. And maybe now he's trying to cover his tracks so that he doesn't get more jail time added to his sentence."

Brenna drew in her breath and John could feel the muscles in her arm tense. She'd already been through too much and John wanted to put an end to at least what was causing her this immediate stress.

"I'm going out there to coax our guests into leaving." He informed her.

Brenna caught his arm. "You think that's a good idea?"

John had already started to reach for the button to disengage the security system, but that stopped him. No. It wasn't a good idea, even if it'd feel damn good to try to pound some sense into Michael. But if he left the house, he'd leave Brenna and Aidan more vulnerable.

Maybe that's what Leighanne and Michael wanted him to do. Leave, get distracted with a fistfight, then they would sneak someone in through the back.

"I'll wait until Jay gets here before I go out there." John assured her. She nodded.

So, the concern and discomfort from their unwanted visitors would have to continue. For a while longer. But once Jay arrived, John would have the backup he needed and nothing would stop him from getting rid of Leighanne and Michael.

"What about Aidan's carrier seat?" She asked. "Can I bring it with us?"

"You'll have to leave it behind."

And that riled John, because that seat was necessary for Aidan's safety. Still it wouldn't be beneficial to Aidan's safety or Brenna's, if Michael, Leighanne or a gunman used a tracking device to find them.

He heard Michael start the engine to his car and John saw the white fog from the exhaust as the heat collided with the colder air. Finally, they were leaving. He watched as the tires kicked up gravel and dirt and he didn't stop watching until the car was out of sight.

But John didn't have much time to revel in the small victory of having Michael and Leighanne off his property because John's SUV suddenly exploded in a thundering ball of fire.

John caught Brenna and dragged her to the floor. It wasn't a second too soon because the debris crashed through the windows and daggered through the house.

"Aidan" Brenna cried out.

John did a quick visual check of the damage. There was broken glass and some shards of what was left of his vehicle, but none of the glass or shards had penetrated the door or walls of the guest room.

Still, that visual check didn't soothe his fears or raw nerves. Both Brenna and John jumped up from the floor and raced toward the baby. John threw open the door and saw Aidan sleeping peacefully in his carrier, which Brenna had positioned in the center of the bed.

His son hadn't been harmed.

John's relief was instantly replaced by the rage of what'd just happened. Were Michael and Leighanne responsible for this? Or had the explosive device been set prior to their arrival? He wasn't sure, but he intended to find out.

He hurried back to the window to keep watch. What was left of the SUV was in flames, black coils of smoke lashed through the air. What John didn't see was the culprit. It would have been awfully ballsy of Leighanne or Michael to set an explosive right in front of him, especially since one slight malfunction would have blown up her car as well.

"This has to stop." Brenna said. She had a still sleeping Aidan cradled in her arms.

John reached out and pulled her to him. "It will." Though he had no idea how he was going to keep that promise. And to make matters worse, he now had another suspect to consider in all of this.

Ted DiBiase Sr.

But John knew one thing—Ted DiBiase Sr. wouldn't have risked his daughter's life by putting her in the vicinity of a bomb. Of course, it was possible that DiBiase didn't know that Leighanne would be making a trip out to John's house.

John saw a team car approaching and he checked to make sure the driver was indeed Jay Reso.

"Let's go." John told Brenna. He disengaged the security system and opened the door. "We're leaving now."

She swallowed hard. "Is it safe to go out there?"

"Maybe not. But we don't have a choice. If someone planted a bomb in the car, he or she could have planted one outside the house."

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	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Twelve:

Because there wasn't anything else to do, Brenna occupied herself by glancing around the squad room of San Antonio Police headquarters. It was better than the alternative, thinking about what'd happened at John's house.

She figured if she could keep her mind on mundane things like the headquarters, it might give her body a reprieve from the adrenaline spikes and flashback memories she'd been experiencing.

So, Brenna forced herself to study the squad room. She looked at and listened to the little details. And the big ones. The sea of cluttered desks, ringing phones, and the dozens of conversations going on all at once. Harsh fluorescent lighting. Prison-gray floor titles. The place smelled like disinfectant and stale coffee. This was her second visit to the headquarters in less than forty-eight hours. Brenna hoped it would be her last for a long time.

As part of her job as a victims' rights advocate, she was familiar with the police station and even knew some of the officers. She'd worked closely with several of them on various cases of sexual assault and spousal abuse. However, that didn't make her feel more at ease. She was ready to get out—now. She was tired, hungry and she felt clammy and uncomfortable.

Aidan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content with the surrounding. Since she'd changed him, he'd been awake for nearly a half hour, his deep blue eyes tracking various people as they walked past. He watched as John exited the captain's office and came walking back toward them.

John's expression was hard and etched with frustration and fatigue. At least it was until he saw Aidan. Brenna saw the change in him immediately. John managed a smile as he sank down in the chair next to them.

"He's awake." John touched the baby's cheek and Aidan smiled, too.

John's expression softened and she could see the frustration and fatigue just melt away. She knew how he felt because the same thing happened to her whenever she looked at her son.

Their son, she mentally corrected. Even though there was still a part of her that wasn't able to accept that. She'd planned her life, and Aidan's, around having no father in the picture. Well, John was obviously not going anywhere.

"Some people believe that babies this age don't really smile." Brenna explained. "It's just a reaction to gas."

"He's smiling." Brenna had to agree with him.

John looked at her. Their eyes met. And there it was again—that magnetism that kept pulling her to him. Mixed with the sexual attraction and the spent adrenaline, it was a potent combination. Especially now. And no amount of concentration on mundane things like squad rooms would diminish it.

She cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind. "How soon before we can leave?"

"The captain is looking over our statements and making some calls. He wants to try to find out if Ted DiBiase, Sr is involved."

Yes. Ted DiBiase Sr. The pieces to this puzzle kept multiplying, and the only pieces that fit were the ones that spelled out the potential for an even more dangerous situation. Brenna didn't want Leighanne's criminal father involved in this.

"The crime-scene guys and my own team are still at the house." John explained. "They didn't find another bomb, thank God, and they're collecting the pieces of the one that took out the SUV."

"What about our things? Did they find a tracking device?" She asked.

"Nothing yet, but it'll take a while to go through everything."

She didn't doubt it. Brenna also didn't doubt that John's crew and the police would be thorough. They'd already taken all their clothes for examination and had replaced them with whatever they'd been able to find in the headquarters building. Aidan was now wearing a blue t-shirt many sizes too big and Brenna was dressed in gray sweatpants and a men's white button-down shirt. The clothes made her look like a homeless person.

John had fared far better in the clothing department. Jeans and a snug black tee. The items fit him as if they'd been tailor-made for his body. Which was too bad. Because they only made her notice his body even more. What was with this attraction? Yes, John was hot. He had that whole dangerous bad-boy thing going on. But she'd resisted men like that in the past. In fact, she easily resisted them because they triggered the old memories. But she wasn't having such an easy time resisting John.

"How are you holding up?" John asked.

As he'd done before, he slid his hand over hers, touching both Aidan and her at the same time. And as before, alarms went off in her head. This time, she ignored the alarms. It was true that John and she were getting closer but she wasn't going to refuse his help. Or anything else he was willing to offer.

Mercy. She hoped those great-fitting jeans didn't have anything to do with this.

"I'm okay." Brenna said, and she was surprised that for the most part it was true. Instead of dwelling on what had already happened, she was far more interested in thinking about what was in their immediate future. "Where will we go when the captain lets us leave?"

John glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. "My team is making the arrangements. We'll go to a hotel for a while. It'll be more like a safe house when my team's done setting up the security."

She preferred a hotel to returning to either of their houses, especially since the shooting at her place and the explosion at John's, but she had to wonder if the new temporary living arrangement would assure them any safety whatsoever. Of course, they couldn't stay camped out in the police station, either. They had to go somewhere to regroup and figure out their next move. That's what their would-be killer was almost certainly doing.

Brenna checked her watch—it was already past noon. She checked the captain's door again. Still closed. That antsy get-out-of-there feeling was building with each passing minute. Plus, she had a slight dilemma.

"Is something wrong?" John asked.

Because this couldn't wait, Brenna put her discomfort aside and just told him. "I need to go to the bathroom and I don't have Aidan's carrier seat.'

Brenna knew what the solution had to be because there was only one other person in the building that she trusted with her baby.

"I need you to hold Aidan." She clarified. "I can't carry him while I'm using the bathroom." She stood and eased the sleeping baby toward John.

He looked surprised. Correction, he looked stunned, especially as she placed the baby in his arms. And Brenna's heart was beating fast. The concerns she had certainly hadn't faded. But there wasn't any feeling of panic at seeing Aidan's birth father holding him, and that troubled her in an entirely different kind of way.

"He's really little." John mumbled.

"Yes." She said around the lump in her throat.

The scene in front of her was…confusing, to say the least. It warmed her from head to toe to see John so content. It made her want to get close to him. Brenna wanted more than handholding. She wanted John.

"The last time I slept with a man, it was really awful." She heard herself say. And she groaned. Mercy. Where the heck had that come from? Fatigue and the need for a bathroom break had obviously turned her into a chatterbox.

John blinked. "Awful traumatic or just awful bad sex?" And he was serious, too. There wasn't even the hint of a smile on his handsome face.

"Awful bad sex." Brenna mumbled. "I shouldn't have brought that up." She was about to make some excuses for her chattiness, but John spoke before she could.

"It was the guy's fault."

Because she hadn't expected him to say something like that, it took a moment to sink in. "W—what?"

"It was the guy's fault." He calmly repeated. Then, he aimed those hot blue eyes at her and the impact of his equally hot looks hit her with full force. "Because sex with you could never be awful."

For a moment, she was just too astonished to say anything. She stood there, mouth open. Yes, her mouth open. Unable to speak and not knowing what to say even if she could have somehow managed to get her mouth to form words.

The corner of John's mouth hitched, and he chuckled. "You know I'm attracted to you. And no, it's not because you're the mother of my child."

Brenna had just been about to point that out.

"And it's not just because we're in a dangerous situation together." John continued. "I'd be attracted to you even if there wasn't any danger. You're a beautiful woman. But I'm also attracted to your vulnerability. And your strength."

"I'm not strong."

He shook his head, disagreeing. "You haven't even shed a tear after two attempts to kill you. You've faced fears. And you're done all of that while taking care of a baby. I'd say that's strong. Those are the reasons I want you naked and in my bed."

The image of that stole her breath. There was nothing she could say to that. Admitting that she would like nothing more than to be naked in his bed would be playing with fire. Especially since John and she were going to be spending a lot of time together.

Brenna motioned toward the bathroom. "I won't be long." And she made a hasty exit before she could say something that she would ultimately regret.

She went into the ladies room, used the facilities and then splashed some water on her face. "What are you doing?" She asked herself as she stared into the mirror. But she knew the answer.

She was developing a major case of the hots for John.

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	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Thirteen:

Despite what he'd said, he so wasn't her type, she reminded herself. He could also only be insinuating himself into her life for Aidan. Then, there was the part about his lethal job description. On paper, John Cena was the worst possible match for her. Too bad her body said otherwise. Now, she had to contend with the image of herself naked in his bed. And he'd be naked, too.

How would it feel to be taken by a man like John? How would he taste? And just how memorable of an experience would it be? She didn't have to guess at the last question. It would be memorable, and would likely spoil her for any other man.

Disgusted with herself—and aroused—Brenna dried her face and tried to put on a steely expression before she went back into the waiting area. What she saw when she returned, however, took away the steel and arousal, and the alarm and concern reappeared.

John was standing, holding Aidan, but he wasn't alone. There was a man in a brown uniform. Judging from John's stance, she didn't think this was something to do with his security arrangements. The man tried to hand John a small caramel colored cigar box. Which John didn't take.

Instead John motioned for one of the officers to come over and examine it. That alarmed her even more and Brenna hurried to take the baby so she could move him away from that box and whatever was in it.

"Stay back." John warned her the moment she took Aidan.

Sweet heaven. She prayed it wasn't another bomb and she stepped back into the recess of the ladies' room so that Aidan would be protected. John took things one step further. He used his body as a shield.

The officer examined the box. First, visually and then with a small device that a lieutenant handed him.

"It's okay." The officer concluded. He opened the box to reveal some cigars. Brenna let out the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding. "There's a note." He handed it to John.

"Congratulations on the birth of your son." John read aloud. "It's signed Ted DiBiase, Sr."

That probably should have sent a shock of fear through her, but it didn't. Instead, it infuriated her. Was this some kind of mind game? If so, she wanted to throttle DiBiase for keeping her on this emotional roller coaster.

"Why would he send something like that?" Brenna asked.

"I don't think it was to wish us well."

No. In fact, it felt like a warning. But what kind of warning? Did DiBiase want them to back off from accusing his daughter? Was that it? Or was something else going on here?

John passed the cigars and the note back to the officer. "You might want to keep this in case it turns out to be evidence in the investigation." He explained.

In other words, John didn't want it with them if there was another bug. But he didn't want to discard it either, in case it contained some kind of clue.

'I'll tell the captain that we're leaving." John assured her.

But John barely made it a step in that direction. He stopped when he noticed a man making his way toward him. Brenna recognized him from his photo and from her brief encounter with him at the hospital. Alberto Del Rio.

Brenna stepped away with Aidan in case there was an altercation. Judging from John's body language and expression, that was a strong possibility.

"John Cena." Alberto greeted. "And Brenna Gellar. We meet at last." His tone and posture were cavalier. In fact, everything about him was cavalier.

"I just finished my little chat with the boys in blue." Alberto volunteered. He had a small plastic container of pellet-size breath mints and he calmly funneled some into his mouth. "I take it you're here for the same reason?"

John fired off some questions of his own. "What were you doing in the hospital last night? Did you think you'd try to finish off Katrina O'Neal?"

Alberto crunched his breath mints. "I have no interest in Ms. O'Neal. She's no longer a cop and from what I understand, she's just a couple of steps from being in the loony bin."

"Someone stole her newborn baby and tried to kill her—twice—once right after she gave birth and again in front of Brenna's house. With her security tech skills, she could be earning a six-figure income, but instead she volunteered to work on the task force to find illegally adopted babies. So, have some sympathy."

"Please." Alberto made a show of rolling his eyes. "I don't have sympathy for cops, former cops or for anyone who works for the authorities on a regular basis. That would include you, Cena."

"The feeling is mutual." John took a step forward. "So, what were you doing at the hospital asking about Katrina O'Neal?"

Alberto only smirked.

Brenna thought back to that night and it didn't take her long to come up with a theory. "I think I know why he was there." She stared at Alberto. "Did you put some kind of tracking equipment in my son's diaper bag?"

No more smirks, but he did seem to be amused that she'd figured it out. "Is that where it ended up? I'd been looking for the darn thing. It must have fallen in the bag accidentally.'

"Accidentally?" John repeated his voice practically a growl.

"Of course. I'd never put it there on purpose. I got it for a friend who wanted to keep tabs on his teenage daughter. I had it with me when I was visiting someone at the hospital and I obviously dropped it."

"You expect me to believe that?" John countered.

"Believe what you will. You have no proof otherwise."

No. But there was enough circumstantial evidence to at least suggest it. But right now, they had more important issues.

"I want to know about Leighanne. Did she really put together a surrogacy plot that involved me?" Brenna asked.

"You bet." He fluttered his perfectly manicured nails toward the interrogation room. "And because I wanted to do my civic duty, I just told the police all about it."

Brenna was relieved that the police now knew about Leighanne, but it made her sick to her stomach to hear the confirmation that the woman had indeed planned this. But was it true?

"Leighanne was going to steal the baby?" John asked.

"You're right again. And don't believe that part when she says she changed her mind that she didn't want to go through with the surrogacy. She had every intention of going through with it, but then Ms. Gellar went into labor early and Leighanne couldn't find her."

Brenna pulled Aidan even closer. "You could be saying all of this to save yourself."

"Could be." He smiled. "The boys in blue probably think that, as well. And that's why I cut a deal with them. Not blanket immunity exactly, but they wanted information about the Covington Clinic. I'm sure you remember I was an investor, and I thought I could trade information about Leighanne so they'd be more lenient if there are any charges related to Covington. I don't know to see the inside of a cell."

He'd cut a deal. Even thought she barely knew this man, she wasn't surprised. She only hoped his information did indeed lead to the truth.

"Speaking of jail." John continued. "What about Leighanne's father? Is he involved in this?"

For the first time since they'd started this bizarre conversation, Alberto seemed to get serious. "Ted DiBiase Sr wouldn't do this." He tipped his head toward Brenna and Aidan. "He'd just find a ready-made kid and buy it. Surrogacy is too messy."

"Maybe." John stepped even closer to the man. "But what if Ted and Leighanne wanted to make certain the child was mine so that Leighanne would have an emotional hold me?"

"Look." Alberto's voice lowered as if he was telling a secret. "I'm not saying that Ted is a choirboy, but a word to the wise—leave him out of this, Cena, because you've got enough problems without irritating DiBiase. Besides, this stinks of Leighanne. Or else her lap boy, Michael Cole." Alberto smiled again. "Now, there's a piece of work. Maybe Michael is the one who put all of this together and just maybe Leighanne is telling the truth about trying to put an end to the baby surrogacy plan."

John stared at him. "And you're telling the truth now? Why?"

"Because of the deal with the cops. And if you know the truth, you'll get off my back and jump onto Leighanne's. I have enough people digging into my business without you doing it, too." He flashed another of those oily grins and aimed his eyes at Brenna. "By the way, you got lucky. Because Leighanne's original plan was to smother you in your sleep after you delivered, and take the kiddo."

Brenna tried not to react. She kept a stern face. Kept her chin high and her shoulders squared. But it created an emotional firestorm inside her to hear the confirmation that someone had wanted her dead. Still, she had to consider the source, who just might not be very reliable.

Alberto tried to walk closer to her, but John blocked his path. The man still spoke to her over John's shoulder. "Watch your step, though Leighanne might still want to send you to the hereafter."

Brenna shook her head. "Leighanne has no reason to kill me now."

Alberto's smirk returned. "You don't know her."

Obviously riled, John caught the man's arm and maneuvered him against the wall. It was definitely a threatening posture. "What does that mean?"

"It means Leighanne just might kill you both so she can win. Without the two of you and Katrina O'Neal to testify against her, Leighanne might believe—in her twisted little mind, of course—that there won't be any evidence against her. And that's not too far from reality. The police don't have a solid case because they don't have any proof."

Alberto leaned in and put his mouth close to John's ear. "But I do." Brenna heard him say, though his voice had very little sound.

John caught a handful of Alberto's shirt. "What kind of proof?"

"The good kind. I carry a tape recorder everywhere I go and if people start saying things that might be in conflict with the law, I record it. It's the best way I know to cover my own butt."

John waited a moment before he rammed his hand into Alberto's jacket pocket and extracted a tiny recorder. "I want those recordings." John insisted. "The ones that prove Leighanne's involvement."

"I'm sure you do want them—badly. What are they worth to you?"

John tightened his grip on Alberto's shirt and shoved the man harder against the wall. It drew the attention of one of the nearby officers, but John gave the man a reassuring nod that all was well.

"What are the tapes worth to you?" Alberto paraphrased. "I don't mean money, either. Let's just say I need your connections."

John seemed disgusted with that. "I'll have the cops get a search warrant—"

"They'll never find them. But you, on the other hand, have a wonderful opportunity to hear your ex-girlfriend in action. All you have to do is talk to your buddies in the D.A.'s office. I know you have connections there, including a former employee who used to do special-ops stuff for you. I want to make sure the cops don't renege on their assurance to keep me out of jail."

"I have no pull with them and even if I did, I wouldn't use any favors on you."

Alberto made an hmmm sound. "Too bad. Having these tapes could ultimately end the threat to the lovely Ms. Gellar and her wee babe. Or should I saw your wee babe?"

John slammed Alberto so hard against the wall that it knocked the breath from him. This time, several officers came running.

"What's going on here?" A sergeant demanded.

"This piece of slime needs to be reinterrogated." John explained. "Ask him about recordings he made that are pertinent to the investigation. And while you're at it, have your boss rethink the deal you made with him."

The sergeant hesitated a moment before he latched on to Alberto's arm. "All right. Come with me."

"I won't give up those tapes." Alberto whispered so that only Brenna and John could hear. "The offer is only for you, John Cena. You scratch my back, and I'll give you what you need to keep Brenna Gellar and your little boy alive."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fourteen:

While he waited on hold for Jay to return to the phone, John showed Brenna around the suite of the Plaza Rio Hotel. The two rooms and bath would be their temporary home until he could figure out what the hell was going on. This could take a while.

So far, he hadn't had much luck confirming the person responsible for putting them in a position where they had to hide out. Alberto was the obvious culprit because of the bug, but that didn't mean he'd been the one to try to kill them.

John wondered if Brenna had realized that she'd be in close quarters with him indefinitely. He'd certainly given it some thought and hoped like the devil that he could first and foremost keep her safe. Secondly, he hoped that he could keep his hands off her. Because the close quarters would be sweet torture.

"You and Aidan can sleep in here." He said, directing her into the bedroom. The bassinet and baby supplies were already in place. They had everything they needed to lay low for at least a week. "The view's great, but you'll need to keep the drapes closed."

She nodded and went to the window to peek out. John already knew what she would see because he'd checked out photos that Jay had emailed him earlier while they were still at the police station.

Their gilded cage was a twenty-seven-room, five-star hotel centered in downtown San Antonio, a city of more than a million people, and it was right on the River Walk, a major tourist area. All that bustle and activity seemed contradictory to security, but John had booked the entire hotel. And he'd had guards posted at each end of the hall and is front of the elevator. No one was getting into the suite.

For extra security, John had told the hotel manager that they would be staying in room 302, but just in case the manager couldn't be trusted, they were actually staying at the other end of the hall in 310. John hoped the precaution wouldn't be necessary.

"This must be costing you a fortune." Brenna mumbled.

"It's worth every penny."

John went to her and eased her away from the window. Man, she looked exhausted. He was about to insist that she take a nap when Jay came back on the line.

"I got the information you need." Jay informed him. And since some of that information might be disturbing or unsettling to Brenna, John decided to listen to it first and then give her the sanitized version.

'I'll take this call in the sitting room." John told her, and for some reason, he kissed her cheek. Not a lustful kiss, either. It was more like a husbandly peck. He hadn't even known he was going to do it before his mouth brushed against her warm face, and he didn't know which one of them looked more surprised.

John made a hasty exit into the adjacent room, and he went to the desk by the window, as far away from Brenna as he could get. This way she wouldn't be able to hear his conversation or he would be able to get that husbandly peck off his mind. He asked Jay to continue.

"First, Ted DiBiase Sr." Jay started. "Over the past year, he's had multiple meetings with his daughter, but the prison guards can't say if the two were planning anything illegal. There certainly isn't any kind of paper trail to prove they were. Or to prove anything."

"What about a meeting? Did DiBiase agree to see me?" John checked out the window and saw the trail of people strolling along both of the cobblestone sides of the River Walk. Even though it was winter, there was a crowd.

"He did. Ten, tomorrow morning at the prison. But there's a problem. He wants Brenna to come too."

John dropped the curtain and groaned. "Why?"

"DiBiase says he wants a chance to talk to both of you about all this surrogacy stuff."

"Because he wants to try to convince us that his daughter is innocent."

"Probably. But he says the meeting won't happen unless Brenna is with you."

John's first instinct was to refuse to bring her, but he needed answers and DiBiase might be able to provide them. Still, there was no way he wanted to put Brenna through something like that.

"I'll think about it." John told Jay. "What about Alberto Del Rio? Any luck finding those disks he claims he has?"

"Not yet but the police are getting a search warrant."

Which would probably be useless, Alberto wouldn't have mentioned them if they weren't out of reach of the authorities. He had no doubt hidden them away. If they existed at all.

"We did find the tracking and eavesdropping device that Alberto Del Rio put in Aidan's diaper bag." Jay continued. "It was identical to the one we found on Brenna's car."

"Keep a tail on Del Rio." John told Jay. "I want to know where he goes and who he sees."

"Are you going to do as Del Rio asked and talk to the police about the investigation against him?" Jay wanted to know.

"As much as it riles me to think of doing it, it's possible." Heck, anything was possible, because he was going to do whatever was necessary to solve this case. "It might be a small price to pay to get actual physical evidence that the police can use. Of course, he could be lying."

"Well, he's almost certainly the one who planted a bug in the diaper bag and on the car. It's not much of a stretch to think he'd plant other bugs that could have recorded incriminating conversations."

That was true, but John had to wonder just how much it would ultimately cost to get those recordings. He didn't mind paying Alberto money, but he didn't like the idea of helping a slime ball like that with a get-out-of-jail-free-card deal. Someone should have to pay for all the havoc that went on at Covington. Even if Del Rio wasn't guilty of helping Leighanne, he'd certainly been privy to some of the illegal activity going on at Covington.

"I've arranged a nanny-bodyguard." Jay continued. "Her name is Kenzie Novak. I know her personally and her references are impeccable. If you need her, all you have to do is phone me. I have her in one of the rooms on the bottom floor of the hotel, but I can move her anywhere you want."

"Thanks again." And John was ready to end the call so he could give some thought to what he was going to do about visiting Ted DiBiase Sr.

"There's more." Jay announced. And that was all he said for several moments.

That long pause caused John to groan again. "What's wrong now?"

"Remember Eve Torres, the Texas businesswoman you rescued in South America right before Christmas?"

John instantly tensed up. Of course he remembered the owner of a coffee-processing plant who was taken hostage just before Christmas—someone had shot him within hours of his return from that rescue. "I remember Torres. Among lots of other things, her rescuse was my last mission. She was taken hostage by an extremist environmental group. What about her?"

"Well, she has an old foe she believes might have orchestrated her kidnapping."

"Is it Ted DiBiase Sr?"

"No. Michael Cole."

John didn't like this particular surprise. "Why did all of this come to light just now?"

"Because Eve Torres only recently put two and two together and called me about it. It seems that Michael wanted to buy her shares of a business. She refused to sell. Ms. Torres speculated that Michael orchestrated the kidnapping so that she'd be murdered and her shares would come up for sale."

"Any truth to it?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. I talked to some people who said that Michael was well past being furious when you went into that jungle and brought Ms. Torres back. Her family and the Department of State had written her off as dead."

John considered that a moment. "Was Michael Cole furious enough to have shot me?"

"According to my sources, yes."

So, there it was. Michael apparently had his own agenda for murder. John took that piece of information and put it together with another request. "Check and see if Michael has any experience with explosives, then examine his bank accounts to see if you can find payment for a hired gun."

Jay assured him that he would and John ended the call. Nothing he'd learned had been good news and now he had another dilemma. He had to decide if he could dare ask Brenna to go with him to see DiBiase, a man who might possibly want to kill them both.

John drew in a weary breath and peeked out the window again. He took a moment to glance in all directions, looking around in case a sniper was on one of the balconies of the hotel directly across from them. When he was reasonably satisfied that there was no immediate danger, John headed back toward the bedroom to check on Brenna and have the conversation with her that he was already dreading.

He tapped on the door. No answer. So he tapped again. By the third tap his heart and imagination were racing with all sorts of bad scenarios. John drew his gun from his slide holster at the back of his waist and he barged right into the room. Only to find Brenna and Aidan lying on the bed.

The sound of his entry must have startled her because she rifled to a sitting position. And that's when John realized she'd been half asleep and nursing the baby. She'd lifted up her top to expose her right breast. John felt like a pervert because his concern instantly turned to arousal.

"What's wrong?" Brenna asked. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

Her attention landed on his gun. Just like that, she went from startled and confused to looking more than a little panicked. John quickly put the gun back in his slide holster so that it was out of sight.

Her breath was so rapid now that her chest was pumping. "I'm nearly thirty years old. I've been through hours of therapy, hypnosis—you name it. And I still can't make this fear of guns go away."

He walked slowly toward her. And he took a deep breath. "That's because you went through a horrible nightmare to get to where you are now. A phobia seems natural, considering everything that happened."

"You've been shot before." She pointed out, dragging her hand through her hair.

"Several times."

"And you don't have gun phobias."

"No. But that's because I've been around guns all my life. I've had a lot of training and more than a lot of experience carrying a weapon.'

John reached down and eased her bulky top over her exposed breast.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and she blushed. "Oh, sheez. I'm so sorry. I fell asleep and forgot I was nursing him."

"Don't be sorry. You just gave me fuel for fantasies."

And he wasn't joking. Because he needed something to do with his hands—touching her wasn't an option—he lifted the sleeping baby and put him against his chest. As he'd seen Brenna do. So that he could burp him. It didn't take much, just a few soft pats on the back, and his son let out a loud belch. John couldn't imagine a sound of that volume coming from such a tiny body.

Brenna and he shared a smile, even though hers was tentative. That probably had something to do with the fact that she was still blushing.

Since he needed to have a serious conversation with Brenna, he put the sleeping baby in his new bassinet. He checked the window again, something he'd no doubt be doing a lot, and then he walked back to the bed where Brenna was still lying.

Did he even have the right to ask her to visit DiBiase? Or was DiBiase's request some kind of ploy to get Brenna out in the open so that she'd be an easy target for Leighanne?

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	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Fifteen:

John sat down on the bed beside her.

"You look…intense. Is this about you seeing my breast?" She asked before he could say anything. The blush was still there on her cheeks and she was nibbling on her bottom lip.

John suddenly had the urge to nibble on her lip, too. But he couldn't put this conversation off since he had to make a decision about keeping that appointment with Ted DiBiase Sr.

"I've really made some mistakes." Brenna supplied. "First talking about the awful sex. Then, not remembering—"

"Trust me, I was thinking about having sex with you long before you brought up the subject."

Because he was so close to her, he saw the pulse jump on her throat. It was another jolt to his libido. Of course, anything she did at this point, including breathing, caused him to want her even more.

She shook her head. "Some men are really put off by the sight of a woman nursing a child."

"It didn't put me off."

Her nerves were right there at the surface. "Some men are put off after seeing a woman give birth." She tried again.

"I guess some men are." John didn't see it that way. Delivering Aidan was the most incredible thing he'd ever done or ever would do. He couldn't possibly be disgusted or put off by that.

John knew it was a mistake but he looked at her face. With her hair all mussed and her eyelids heavy, she looked like the answer to some really raunchy dreams that he'd been having. He made another mistake. He reached out and skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip. She didn't flinch. Didn't have any adverse reaction. But her breath shivered a little. She shivered. And that was the only invitation he needed to kick the intensity of the situation up a notch.

John took things slow, so she'd have an out if she wanted it, and slid his hand around the back of her neck to draw her closer to him. Her skin was warm and soft. Welcoming. And she made a slight sound of pleasure when he lowered his head and kissed her.

The kiss was a mistake, too. But he didn't care. In that moment, the only thing that seemed to matter was tasting Brenna. So that's what he did. John took his time, savoring her and letting her own unique taste slide through every inch of his body.

She put her arms around him. First one, then the other. And she eased closer to him, until her breasts touched his chest. Again, John waited, to make sure he wasn't breaking too many rules, but Brenna broke some rules of her own. She deepened the kiss and pulled him to her.

"We shouldn't be doing this." She mumbled.

"No, we shouldn't. Do you plan to stop?"

Her answer was in her kiss, hot, long and French. Just the way he liked kisses. But the problem with really good kisses—and these were good—was that soon his body wasn't content with just mouth-to-mouth contact. His body wanted more. Brenna's too.

She kept inching closer and closer until she was plastered against him. Until she was seeking the physical contact that would not only make them burn hotter but also give them some release. However, despite her hungry kisses and the way she was digging her nails into his back, this wasn't the time for sex. John repeated to himself.

And he forced himself to repeat the reasons, too. She'd just come away from a horrible ordeal and she wasn't thinking straight.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He said, restating her earlier comment.

"We've already established that."

But it didn't stop her. Heck, it didn't stop him, either. He continued to kiss her. And touch her. He slid his hand along her waist and then her hip. Brenna moved against his touch. And she moved closer until she was practically in his lap. All in all, it was a very good position for her to brush against his erection. Which is exactly what she did.

She moved. He moved. And somehow, his erection ended up touching her sex. That created another frenzy of kisses. More movement. More touching. More of everything.

Oh man, she smelled good. Like sex. She looked even better with her face flushed with arousal and her mouth still damp from their kisses. More than anything, John wanted to finish what he'd started. He wanted to have sex with her. But he couldn't.

For one thing, he didn't have a condom. For another, he wasn't sure she was physically ready for sex, since it'd only been six weeks since she'd delivered Aidan. However, the biggest obstacle was having to live with the consequences of having sex with Brenna.

Sex would change things. And she was just starting to trust him. No. He needed to wait until he could assure her safety before he could even think about having a relationship with the mother of his child.

"We're stopping." She said.

"Yeah." Though that one word of agreement hadn't come easily.

His body was still begging and his willpower was zero, but John eased her away from him. He went one step further and turned her on her side, so they were in spooning position. It was far better than the alternative. No more frontal body contact for them. Well not, today anyway.

"Say something." She whispered.

"I'm afraid to." John admitted.

He held his breath, waiting for her reaction and was surprised when she laughed. "Have you ever wondered why you're attracted to some people and not others?"

"No. In the past, I've always just gone with it. I'm trying to be more careful with you."

"Careful." She repeated. "That's ironic. Because I've been reckless with you."

He didn't doubt that. Nor did he mind it. Well, his body didn't mind it. His brain was having a little trouble with the fact that he was going to have to be the one to do the resisting. John waited for a lightning bolt to hit him.

Because he knew he stood a snowball's chance in Hades of resisting Brenna much longer. He wanted that mouth, that body. Hell, he wanted all of her. Even if wanting her was the last thing he should have on his mind

Brenna turned, rolling on her side so she was facing him. That wasn't a good move, not with the sexual energy still stirring between them.

"You have something you want to say to me?" she whispered. "Not about the kisses. Or this." She bumped his aroused body with hers and had him seeing stars.

"No, I don't want to talk about that."

But he couldn't help it. He kissed her again. Not a sweet little this-ends-now kiss, either. It was a kiss of hunger. Of frustration. John latched on to two handfuls of her hair, dragged her closer and kissed her. And then, because he knew he had to, he eased her away from him.

"You lost control." She said. "Well for a few seconds anyway."

"It won't happen again." He lied.

She stared at him and John thought for a moment that she would call his bluff. All it would take was a kiss, a touch or that look in her eyes. But she too must have realized the need for some distance because she inched away. What she didn't do was stop touching him.

She slid her fingers down his chest. "You want to talk to me about what Jay told you."

Not really—he didn't want to have this conversation. But it had to be said because Brenna needed to know what he'd learned.

John caught her hand to stop the caressing. He was enjoying the heck out of it, but this was info best delivered while in a nonaroused state. "My team found a bug in the diaper bag."

"Alberto Del Rio." She immediately offered. She did that caressing thing again. She rubbed her finger along his cheek but then pulled back, knowing it wasn't a good idea. "I should have suspected something when I saw him near the bag at the hospital."

"You had a lot on your mind that night. You'd just witnessed a woman being shot and you'd had bullets fired at you. Anyway, the device is like the one we found on your car. And since you saw him near the diaper bag and since he was on the parking lot surveillance videos, it's a good guess that he's our man. Of course, that doesn't prove he fired shots at us."

"No." She said softly.

John hesitated. This wouldn't be as easy to tell her as what she'd already heard.

"Just tell me." Brenna insisted. "Even if it's bad, I want to hear it."

"Okay." He nodded. "I have a meeting scheduled with Ted DiBiase Sr tomorrow at the prison. The place is about a half hour outside the city."

"Oh. Well, a meeting with DiBiase is a good idea." She didn't sound totally convinced.

"Not really."

She sat partly up, pressed her elbow into the soft mattress and rested her head in her hand. Most of her hesitancy faded. "But it is good. He might be able to tell us who's behind these attempts to kill us. He might even implicate his daughter—"

"He wants you there. In fact, he won't even see me unless I bring you with me."

The hesitancy returned. He felt her body stiffen. "What about Aidan?" She immediately asked.

John didn't even have to think about the answer to this. "He's not going to the prison. That's not negotiable. If we make this trip together, then he'll stay with Kenzie Novak, the bodyguard that Jay hired."

They would have to time the visit right, of course, so that the baby wouldn't miss being nursed. But John still wasn't convinced this should happen.

"Do you think Ted DiBiase Sr actually has answers for us?"

"Yes." John admitted. "But I don't know if he'll actually tell us."

"You think this could be some kind of trick to draw us out into the open?"

"Anything's possible." John slid a lock of hair off her cheek.

She stayed quiet a moment. "We don't really have a choice. We'll have to meet with him."

"You have a choice." John assured her. "If we don't meet with DiBiase, I'll find another way."

"But this is the most readily available way. If he tells us what we need to know so there can be an arrest, then Aidan will be safe."

In theory, John knew a million things could do wrong. But things might work out, too, and even though there was only a slim chance of that, it was their best opportunity to identify the person who wanted them dead.

John pulled her to him. "You need some sleep. Try to rest."

"You do the same."

He made a sound of agreement, but he knew there was no chance he'd rest. Because tomorrow morning, the two of them would have to face down a man who might've tried to kill them. John prayed that the risk would be worth it and that he could keep Brenna and Aidan safe.

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	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Sixteen:

Brenna watched as John surrendered his gun to the prison guard. Just the sight of the high-powered weapon caused her blood pressure to spike, but she was just as scared at the thought of John being unarmed. As much as she disliked guns, she equally disliked the fact that he'd just surrendered their main instrument of protection.

They had already been searched, thoroughly. The guards had gone through the pockets and lining of the camel-wool coat that one of John's team members had brought over for her earlier that morning. Ditto for her newly acquired chocolate-brown pantsuit. The guards had also searched her purse, though there was little inside it. Her own things—purse and clothes included—were still being examined for bugs and tracking devices.

"It'll be okay." John whispered to her. "Is this your first time away from Aidan?"

"Yes." And that was causing her far more concern than she'd imagined it would. It was strange. She'd had a life before Aidan, but everything had changed since his birth. It was getting harder to imagine a time without him.

"We'll keep the meeting short." John promised. He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her through the first set of steel doors. They slid shut behind them and created a sound that made Brenna more than a little uncomfortable.

Then there was another security checkpoint, this one with a metal detector that the guard ran over every inch of John's body—inside and outside his black leather coat, over his jeans and charcoal-gray shirt. Since they'd both already been searched at the first checkpoint, it seemed a little like overkill, but in this case, Brenna knew that it was exactly what was needed.

John wouldn't have a weapon. But then neither would anyone else. She wanted no repeats of what had happened the day before.

"Inmate DiBiase is in here." The guard instructed them, opening the door to a large, gray room. "Stay on this side of the table. And don't have any physical contact with the inmate."

"Gladly" Brenna mumbled.

She certainly didn't want to get close enough to touch Ted DiBiase Sr. In fact, her goal was to get the information, end this meeting and get back home to her son. She trusted Kenzie Novak, but being away from Aidan, especially at a time like this, made her anxiety level skyrocket.

John stepped inside the gray room just ahead of her. And he didn't made it far before he came to an abrupt stop. He cursed, and it was vicious.

Her heart dropped, and she automatically assumed the worst: that DiBiase had called off the visit and wasn't there. Or else maybe he was sitting at the table with his own weapon already aimed at them—though that seemed unlikely with an armed guard in the hall and with the surveillance cameras monitoring his every move. Because John was literally blocking her way, Brenna had to go on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder to see what had prompted his response. And she cursed, too.

There was indeed a long metal table, gray, and the man that she presumed was Ted DiBiase Sr was sitting on the far side of it. But he wasn't alone.

On the near side of the table—the visitors' side—there were already three other people seated. Michael Cole, Leighanne DiBiase, and Alberto Del Rio.

What were they doing there? Within just a few yard of her were the four people who might have already tried to kill John and her—not once but twice. It was also likely that those attempts to kill them would continue.

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded.

"Isn't it obvious—we're about to have a meeting." DiBiase answered. He wasn't exactly smiling, but he did seem to be enjoying John's displeasure.

But DiBiase was the only one of them who was enjoying any of this. The three others were obviously not happy. Leighanne had her shapely legs crossed, her arms folded over her ample chest and her red stiletto-clad right foot was swinging furiously at the empty space between her and the table. She wasn't looking at her father. Nor was Michael, who was staring at the wall. He seemed more disinterested than annoyed. And then there was Alberto Del Rio.

Brenna felt both curious and concerned about what was about to happen. The entire room felt ready to explode.

"Ted ordered us to come." Alberto announced. "He said there'd be hell to pay if I didn't get my butt here at this ungodly hour of the morning."

"I merely wanted to get a few things straight and needed you all here to do that." DiBiase insisted, turning his eyes on Alberto. "An ungodly hour or so of your time isn't much, considering." DiBiase turned his attention to John. "I understand you've been making accusations about my daughter."

"John thinks I tricked that woman into being my surrogate." Leighanne added without looking at either of them. "He thinks I wanted to trap him by having someone else give birth to his child."

"I haven't made any false accusations." John said. "Everything I've said about Leighanne is true."

"Ha!" laughed Leighanne. "You wouldn't know the truth if it hit you in the face. I don't deserve this, John." She swirled around in her seat, but the moment her eyes landed on him, her expression softened a bit. And then it softened a lot. "Can't we just sit down together, alone, and talk this out?"

"I don't think that'd be a good idea." Michael insisted. He sounded both jealous and concerned for safety.

John shook his head. "Anything you want to say to me, you can say here."

"In front of her?" Leighanne stabbed her index finger at Brenna. "Hardly. She's to blame for this. We could have worked things out if she hadn't come to you with these ridiculous lies."

Leighanne's resentment didn't surprise Brenna, but it did surprise her that the woman believed that she could actually work things out with John. Leighanne was clearly delusional. Unfortunately, someone who was delusional could do all sorts of nasty things, including but not limited to attempted murder.

Scowling, Alberto stood and outstretched his arms, palms up. "This is why I'm frickin here—to rehash an old lovers' quarrel?"

"You're here because you're a suspect." DiBiase calmly clarified. He motioned for Alberto to sit. "You had the means, motive and opportunity for the shooting incident that left Katrina O'Neal wounded. A shooting incident that could have harmed John and Ms. Gellar."

"I can be a suspect without having to be subjected to this conversation." Alberto fired back. "The soaps start in an hour and I don't intend to miss them."

"I've never asked you for a favor." DiBiase continued. "Considering I've made you lots of money—"

"And you've gotten me into a whole yacht-load of trouble with your investment recommendations."

"Yes. But you're still rich and, unlike me, you're not in jail. So, consider that favor and think about the consequences of refusing me this favor."

That stopped Alberto in his tracks. He huffed and turned back around. "And what favor would that be?"

"Convince John to stop this witch-hunt investigation against Leighanne."

"Witch hunt?" Alberto repeated. "Is that what you call it these days?"

DiBiase nodded. "There is no evidence to prove otherwise, is there?"

Brenna didn't think that was an off-the-cuff comment. Was DiBiase referring to the incriminating recordings that Alberto supposedly had? Or did he even know about them? Considering everything she'd heard about DiBiase, he likely knew. And if so, was that some kind of veiled threat for Alberto to keep quiet?

Alberto certainly didn't acknowledge it. He turned to walk away again but stopped when he was side-by-side with John and Brenna. He put his arms around each of them and brought them into a huddle. "When you're done with this trivial stuff, meet me in the parking lot. I'll give you a sample of what we discussed earlier."

A sample of the recordings that would hopefully implicate Leighanne. Alberto apparently had decided to put his trust in John rather than Ted DiBiase Sr. Of course, it was bold—and even stupid—to make an offer like that in a room where DiBiase could easily overhear it. Brenna didn't like the tangled, dangerous turn this conversation was taking.

John didn't say anything until Alberto had left. "Let's cut to the chase. I need someone here to admit guilt—either their own or someone else's. Because I want these attacks on Brenna and my son to stop."

Leighanne gave John an icy glare when he said my son. "The guilty party just walked out of the room." She insisted. "Or else she's standing right by you."

John looked at Michael. "I'm not sure about that."

"Neither am I." DiBiase volunteered. "Leighanne, Michael, why don't you step outside for a moment while I have a chat with John and his lady?"

Leighanne mumbled a protest under her breath. Michael made a sound of annoyance, but they both stood.

"Tell the guard that I'll be ready to return to my cell in ten minutes." DiBiase instructed his daughter.

That request caused her to grumble even more. Leighanne walked toward the door, but then stopped when she reached John. She was so close that Brenna could smell the woman's expensive perfume.

"You have this all wrong." Leighanne whispered to John. "I would never do anything to hurt you. In your heart, you must know that."

"I know no such thing."

Much to Brenna's surprise, tears sprang to Leighanne's eyes and they looked real. She quickly wiped away those tears and both Michael and she did as her father had asked. They left the room and shut the door behind them.

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	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Seventeen:

"So far, you've wasted my time." John immediately told DiBiase.

"Yes. I'm sorry about that. I really thought having everyone in the room would be more beneficial to the truth coming out. But not to worry. I have something that should make this visit worthwhile. I did some checking. That woman you rescued in South America had some local enemies. And one enemy in particular might be responsible for the shooting and the explosion."

John shrugged. "So I've heard."

Well, Brenna certainly hadn't heard about it. She pulled in her breath and looked at John. "What's he talking about?"

"I was going to tell you." John assured her. But he didn't get a chance to do that because DiBiase continued, seemingly pleased that this was the first Brenna was hearing about the connection between John's work and the recent attacks.

"Then you probably know that Michael was one of the woman's enemies." DiBiase announced. He stared at Brenna. "It was business, but sometimes Michael takes business personally. Michael wanted something that the woman had and when she was kidnapped, he thought he would get it. John ruined everything for him by rescuing the woman in what was considered by most to be an unrecoverable situation."

And that rescue was related to Michael. More puzzle pieces. But how did they fit?

"Is this leading somewhere?" John asked impatiently.

"It is. Michael has a strong motive for wanting you dead. He wants revenge."

So, that's how the pieces fit. "Does that motive extend to me and my son?" Brenna asked.

DiBiase hesitated a moment. "It could. Michael might feel the best way to get back at John is to hurt those close to him. He admitted to me that he'd kept an eye on John after he got back from South America. Michael could have learned that you'd given birth to John's child."

John latched on to that. "Other than through Leighanne, how would Michael have learned about my son?"

"The same way you did, I suspect. Probably by following you and then piecing together the same clues you did."

Well, maybe those pieces fit or maybe DiBiase was giving them this information for a different reason. "And your pointing the finger at Michael might be a way of trying to take the guilt off Leighanne."

The man nodded. "It's true. I'd prefer you go after Michael."

"I'm going after whoever's guilty."

"Admirable."

"You should try it sometime." John propped his hands on his hips. "So, if you think Michael is the culprit, why did you invite Alberto Del Rio to this meeting?"

"Ah. Well that was for my own information. I wanted to see how he would react to certain comments. I think he might be the one who's trying to set up Leighanne. Yes, it's true that she wanted to have your baby, but she didn't go through with the surrogacy plan."

John groaned. "Your daughter is more than capable of putting together a plan like this. Why can't you see that?"

"I do see it." DiBiase admitted. He looked at Brenna. "But now that you have a child, certainly you can put yourself in my shoes. Imagine that it's your son who's being accused of a heinous crime that could land him in jail. Wouldn't you do anything to make sure that didn't happen?"

"No. There are no excuses for criminal behavior."

DiBiase shrugged. "Then we agree to disagree."

"Not quite." John insisted. "Who's trying to kill us? And don't guess—I want the truth."

"I don't know the truth, but if I had to put money on someone, it'd be Michael. You already know that I don't believe my daughter could do something like that. And Alberto, well, Alberto is self-centered and ambitious, but he doesn't have a knack for violence. I don't doubt his involvement with the surrogacy plan, but if he had anything to do with the shooting, then he hired someone to do his dirty work."

"Leighanne could have done the same."

Another shrug and DiBiase dismissed it with the flick of his hand. "Someone is digging through Michael's background. Specifically, they're trying to learn if he's had any experience with explosives. I assume the person digging works for you." He didn't wait for John to confirm to deny that. "Michael has that kind of experience. He had a brief relationship in college with a young woman whose brother was a demolitions expert. According to my sources, the brother taught Michael some things."

So, Michael had the expertise to blow things up. But the real question was: had he?

"Another thing." DiBiase went on. "Whatever Alberto tells you about Leighanne, don't believe it. He'll do anything to make sure he doesn't go to jail for what happened at Covington."

"Old news from an old, unreliable source. Is that it?" John asked.

"Not quite. One last word of warning. Katrina O'Neal."

John just stared at him. "What about her?"

"She might have other motives that you're not privy to. We do know that she was involved at Covington as well."

"She was an undercover cop." John fired back. "And she's innocent. Remember, she got shot while trying to give us information."

"Shot but not killed or even hurt that seriously. She could have orchestrated it herself."

"And why the hell would she have done that?" John asked, though he probably figured all of this was DiBiase's smokescreen to take the blame off Leighanne. Well, it wasn't working.

"People have all sorts of reasons for doing things." DiBiase concluded. "Katrina O'Neal is no different."

John dismissed that with a shake of his head, and he caught Brenna's arm as they left the room. Brenna had plenty of questions about the meeting, but she figured they'd have to wait because she expected to run into Michael and Leighanne. But they weren't there.

"The others already left." The guard informed them. "Said they'd be back later."

"They left together with the other man, Alberto Del Rio?" John asked.

The guard shook his head. "All three left alone. Ms. DiBiase was the last to leave." He led them down the corridor and toward the security checkpoints.

John didn't say anything because he didn't want anyone, including the guards, to hear their conversation about DiBiase. They collected their coats and his weapon as they proceeded through the checkpoints and returned to the main entrance of the prison.

"I didn't tell you about Michael's connection to the woman I rescued in South America because I was waiting on the report from my team. Obviously DiBiase moved a little faster than my team did."

"Or maybe he already knew the information." Brenna pointed out. "Considering how protective he is of his daughter, he probably would have had Michael investigated."

"True."

Brenna buttoned her coat before they stepped outside. But even with the coat and the wool-blend pants and jacket, the cold air rifled right through her. "So, what was that about Katrina O'Neal? You don't think she could have anything to do with this?"

"No. I had her thoroughly investigated. She was pregnant when she heard about the illegal activity going on at Covington, and she went undercover for weeks to try to figure out what was going on. The clinic director found out what Katrina was doing and gave her a drug to induce labor. Once she delivered the baby, someone stole her newborn and tried to kill her."

Brenna felt instant empathy with the woman. Mercy, what they'd both been through as a result of their association with Covington. "Then why did DiBiase warn us about her? And for that matter, what was this meeting all about?"

John must have noticed that she was cold because he slipped his arm around her. "Well, for one thing he apparently wanted to threaten Alberto to prevent him from giving us any information about Leighanne."

She agreed with that. "And he also wanted to make us think that Michael was guilty. Anything other than blame his daughter. Would he kill to save Leighanne?" Brenna asked.

"In a heartbeat."

Brenna was afraid of that. They stopped just outside the massive twelve-foot- high front entry gates and looked around the parking lot. There was no sign of Michael or Leighanne. And there was no sign of Alberto, either.

John turned, glancing at the dozens of cars that lined the parking lot. "I guess Alberto decided not to wait around for us, after all."

Great. And here Brenna though at least something good would come from this. Without Alberto's sample recordings, this meeting had been a total waste of time.

"Why would Alberto tell us to meet him out here if he had no plans to stay?" Brenna asked, checking her watch. It was still well over two hours to Aidan's next feeding, but she didn't want to spend time waiting around the prison.

"Maybe DiBiase's subtle threats got to Alberto and he changed his mind." John glanced around them. "Let's go. Once we're in the car, I'll call him and see what the heck is going on?"

John hadn't parked far from the entrance. In fact, just the second row over, but the brutal wind would make the short walk seem much longer.

"Wait." She heard John say.

Brenna turned her head to glance at him, to see what had prompted him to say that. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw John move. Fast. He plowed into her and shoved her to the cement.

Brenna landed hand, her hands and knees catching the brunt of her fall. Her brain didn't even have time to register the pain when she heard the blast.

"Stay down." John warned. "Someone just took a shot at us."

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	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Eighteen:

John scrambled to cover Brenna's body with his own. He prayed it wasn't too late. He couldn't see where the shot had landed, but it couldn't have been far. And that meant the shooter probably wasn't too far away. Hell. Judging from the sound of the shot, it'd come from some kind of assault rifle.

Who would be so bold, so desperate or just so plain to fire shots in front of a prison? Unfortunately, any of their suspects might be responsible, but he couldn't worry about that now. Right now, he had to keep Brenna from being hurt.

There was another shot. This one zinged into the concrete right next to them and kicked up chunks of debris and dust. John knew he couldn't stay put. He needed to take cover behind one of the cars because those flying bits of concrete could be just as dangerous as a bullet. Another bullet came at them.

He tracked the sound and thought it might be coming from across the road where there was a cluster of thick trees. Someone could easily hide there. It was a high ground. Perfect position for an ambush. The next shot smacked into the high metal fence and set off alarms.

"Thank God." John mumbled. Maybe now the guards would come running to investigate because he was in desperate need of some backup.

But guards and backup wouldn't solve his immediate problem. Another bullet came at them. Then another, until the shots were nonstop. A barrage of deadly gunfire and each bullet could be lethal.

"We have to move." He told Brenna.

Since there was no break in the shots, he knew he had to pray for the best and go for it. John lifted his gun and fired into the cluster of trees. Of course, he was way out of range with his handgun, but he hoped it would buy them a little time.

He fired again and caught her arm. "Let's go." John insisted.

John didn't waste any time. Nor did he let her get to a standing position where she'd be too easy a target. Instead, he crouched in front of her and practically dragged her toward a dark-blue SUV. He pushed her down on the concrete sidewalk just in front of the vehicle and, as he'd done before, used his body to shelter her. The position put a lot of pressure on his right leg and almost immediately the pain began to stab through him. John pushed that pain aside so he could assess their situation and get them the heck out of there.

The SUV was large enough to give them some protection, but the gunman obviously tracked them to their new position because the next bullet ripped through the passenger door of the SUV. Behind him, he heard a much more welcome sound. The shouts of a guard. At least one. Maybe more.

"Stay down." He repeated to Brenna when she tried to lift her head to see what the heck was going on. John wanted to know himself.

"Over here." He shouted to the guards so they wouldn't mistake him for the gunman. The last thing he needed was for anyone else to start firing at them. "I think the shooter's in the trees across the road."

A bulky uniformed guard took up position at the main gate and, using a concrete pylon for cover, returned fire. And so did the shooter. However, he or she didn't aim for the guard. The person continued to shoot at Brenna and John.

Beside him, John could hear Brenna's rough, jagged breath. He glanced at her to make sure she was okay. She was pale and trembling but, other than that, was holding up well. Far better than he'd expected. That was a miracle, considering his gun was in plain sight and someone was trying to kill them—again.

As the bullets continued to pelt the SUV and the prison fence, anger began to boil inside John. He was sick of this. He'd chosen a dangerous career and life but Brenna had done all she could to avoid it. Yet, here she was, tossed into a firestorm not of her own making. She was a victim again and that riled him to the core. How dare this shooting SOB put her through this?

The only saving grace was that this time, Aidan wasn't with them. He was safe back at the hotel with the bodyguard. Soon, John would have Brenna back there as well, but first he had to get past this gunman.

The shots stopped. Just like that. There were no more thick blasts, only the howl of the winter wind and the sound of John's heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"Who's out there shooting?" the guard shouted to John. Another armed guard took position behind the pylon opposite his comrade.

"I don't know." John shouted back. "But I intend to find out."

Another pair of guards raced toward the gate, both of them with two-handed grips on their semiautomatic weapons. But neither of them could come out into the parking lot because the shots started up again. The rifleman had obviously reloaded. How long was this going to go on? Each second, each shot, was like an eternity.

Even though Brenna and he were partly protected by the SUV, John knew that each new round fired could be potentially fatal. Bullets could ricochet; eat their way through metal and glass. He needed to get closer to those trees so he could get a better shot. He probably couldn't get within range of the shooter, but maybe, just maybe, he could get close enough to get the idiot to stop.

"Wait here." John told Brenna.

There was another advantage to his trying to get closer to the shooter. If he moved, he could probably draw the fire away from Brenna and get a better angle to see—and stop—whoever was out there.

Brenna caught his arm and frantically shook her head. "What are you going to do?"

"You'll be safe. Just stay down. No matter what. Stay down."

"Please don't go."

He wasn't immune to the fear he heard in her voice. Or was that concern he heard? John thought she might be angry at his plan of action, but he didn't have time to explain what he needed to do. "I have to do this."

She was still shaking her head when he moved away from her. He stayed in a crouched position and tried to use the other vehicles as cover while he made his way laterally across the parking lot. The first part of his plan worked. The shooter fired at him.

His leg throbbed, protesting the strain that he was putting on his still-healing muscles, but John kept moving. And he kept watching to make sure Brenna stayed put and for any sign of the shooter in those trees. Unfortunately, thick gray clouds had covered most of the sky so there was no sunlight to catch even a glint of gunmetal.

He ducked in front a red two-door car. A split-second later, a bullet shattered the windshield. John was thankful for each miss, but he knew he couldn't assume the gunman was a bad shot. Of course, that was a possibility—and if so, he was dealing with an amateur.

Which meant the gunman could be Alberto Del Rio, Leighanne or Michael. Or it could be a pro who was just having a bad day.

John glanced at Brenna. She was still crouched in front of the SUV and she was staring at him. The prison guards were still in place, and one of them was talking on a two-way radio. John figured it wouldn't be long before police backup arrived. After all, this wasn't a prison incident and the local authorities would no doubt be called in.

Maybe the authorities would get luck and catch the SOB. But just in case they didn't arrive in time, John raced toward another vehicle. The shooter followed him with another round of shots. However, the new position was worth it. It put him at the far end of the parking lot, where there were fewer obstructions. And he finally saw the shooter.

Like the other attack in front of Brenna's house, John couldn't tell if the shooter was male or female. The person wore black bulky clothes and was literally perched in a tree about five hundred yards on the other side of the road. Well out of range of John's Glock.

He inched forward, staying next to the vehicle, but this was no longer a lateral reposition. John was moving toward the shooter and would continue to so long as the person took aim at him and not Brenna. Plus, by getting closer, John might be able to get off his own shot, and he could perhaps figure out who was under all the bulky black clothing.

When he reached the end of the car, he raced toward the second of row of vehicles. John heard the sirens then and knew the authorities were on the way. He also heard something else. The sound of the next shot. This one didn't come toward him. It had been fired in Brenna's direction.

"Hell." He snarled. That did it. John was well past his boiling point and he came up ready to blast that moron to smithereens. John fired.

Keeping track of his own shots. He had thirteen rounds and had already used two. He clipped off two more, and he knew that while he didn't have the range, he damn sure had the accuracy. His bullets went right at the shooter.

"John, get down!" He heard Brenna yell.

But he didn't, even though it was a risk. There was a chance that he could end this right here, right now. Evidently, the gunman thought that, as well. Because the person stopped flirting and began to scramble down the tree. That was John's cue to move—fast.

John stopped inching forward and broke into a run. He had to hurdle over fallen trees and underbrush. That didn't help the pain in his leg, but he refused to let it stop him. He ran as hard as he could, trying to make up the distance between the shooter and him.

He lost sight of the person just as he reached the edge of the road. Going into the thick woods wasn't his first choice of things to do, but he figured the gunman was well on his way to escaping. He wasn't going to let that happen. Because if he or she got away, there'd only be another attack. And another. Until John put a stop to this.

The sirens grew closer, but John didn't' wait for them since they were probably still a minute or more out. The shooter would be long gone by then. He hurried across the road and ducked behind a tree. John did a quick visual check around him and raced forward to the spot where he'd first seen the gunman. The person wasn't there, of course.

But there were some spent shell casings and trampled leaves that left a clear trail to the shooter's exit path. John followed with his gun aimed and ready. He moved through the maze of trees and prickly shrubs, and he listened for any sound to indicate that the shooter had doubled back and was about to ambush him. But that wasn't the sound he heard.

Even over the shrill of the approaching sirens, he heard something he didn't want to hear. The sound of someone starting a car engine. He cursed and continued to race through the woods. He pinpointed his focus on the sound of that car and tried to shut out everything else. This was his chance to make sure Brenna and his son were safe. Maybe his only chance.

John slapped aside a low-hanging tree branch and saw the clearing. He raced toward it. But it wasn't just a clearing. It was a narrow country road, and there was a dark-green car parked next to a shallow ditch. The person dressed in black bulky clothing was in that car.

John could see the shadowy figure through the heavily tinted windows, but he couldn't make out any distinguishing features. But that was the least of his problems. The driver hit the accelerator. John tried to stop the escape. He ran toward the road, aimed his weapon and fired. His bullet shattered the glass in the back window. But that didn't stop the driver.

He fired again, but he took his focus off the driver and turned it to the license plates. VKJ were the first three letters. He didn't get a good look at the rest because the car barreled over a hill. And disappeared.

With his breath gusting and adrenaline firing on all cylinders, he repeated those three letters, committing them to memory. Because those three letters were going to lead him to the person who'd just tried to murder them once again.

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	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Nineteen:

The hot bath hadn't helped Brenna. Neither had the chamomile tea that John had delivered to the suite. Ditto for the chicken soup she'd had for dinner. Even holding, nursing, and rocking Aidan hadn't worked. Instead of spending pleasant quiet moments with her son, her mind and heart were still racing with the most unpleasant thing of all. She couldn't stop thinking about the shooting. They'd come close to dying again. Another attack, another near miss. And they still didn't have a culprit identified and behind bars.

However, Brenna refused to give in to the helpless feeling that their situation was creating. She refused to cry and she darn sure refused to give up. The stakes were too high for her to do that. Beside, John was working on the case. She had to believe that sooner or later—hopefully sooner—he'd be able to put a name and a face with the person who had fired rifle shots at them.

She eased Aidan into his bassinet and went to the door that separated the bedroom from the sitting area. John was still on the phone. He had the call on speakerphone and she could hear bits and pieces of what he and Jay were saying. However, John's tone told her a lot more than his words. He was barking orders, which meant he was still well beyond being riled.

That didn't surprise her. He'd been in that particular state of mind since he'd stormed out of those woods near the prison. Brenna had been so thankful to see him, so thankful that he was alive and unharmed. But John had immediately launched into an investigation that including phoning for members of his team to find the car that the gunman had used to escape.

John had wanted to go after the car himself. He'd as much as said so when they were giving their statements to Sheriff Barrett, the officer who'd responded to the scene. The sheriff, however, had advised John to take Brenna and go someplace safe, since the shooter might return for another round.

Brenna tiptoed into the sitting room so that she wouldn't disturb his call. They were alone. Kenzie Novak, the bodyguard, had excused herself to go to her room across the hall. Brenna figured the woman really just wanted to get away from a snarling, scowling John. And speaking of John, he was indeed still scowling as he listened to Jay explain some paperwork. John was sitting on the sofa, his feet propped on the ottoman. He'd taken off his shoes and jacket and had discarded them on the floor next to his suitcase. His shirt halfway unbuttoned, revealing a tightly muscled chest.

Despite the nightmare they'd just been through, or maybe as a result of it, she felt herself go all warm. Okay, hot. It was strange, the effect he had on her. Even now, she could appreciate and react to the sight of him. She stepped closer and spotted the uneaten sandwich and coffee on the table next to the baby monitor equipped with a camera. And his gun, which he'd, covered with a cloth napkin. He hadn't touched either the sandwich or the coffee, though it was nearly six in the evening, which meant he'd skipped both lunch and dinner. He had to be starving by now.

John looked at her, snared her gaze. And he seemed to do a double take. The look he gave her was long. Smoldering. And if she wasn't mistaken—appreciative.

Brenna immediately glanced down to make sure she hadn't left her top unbuttoned after nursing, but she was thankfully covered. Well, almost. She'd changed since the incident at the prison and was wearing one of the outfits John's team had sent to the hotel. It definitely wasn't her normal attire. A short black skirt and a loose citrus-green shirt that barely made it to her waist.

John returned his attention to the phone when Jay finished speaking. "Please tell me that the car dealer had surveillance videos on the lot or in his office." He said to the man.

"Afraid not. It's a mom-and-pop place out past Kerrville. They probably only sell a handful of cars each month, if that."

Despite the dour-sounding news, it was also promising because it sounded as if they'd found the place where the gunman had bought the escape vehicle.

"Besides." Jay continued. "The dealer is pretty sure the guy who bought it wasn't buying it for himself. He claimed that his name was John Smith and he paid cash."

"So the person could have been buying the car for Leighanne." John concluded.

"Unfortunately, yes." That was unfortunate. Because if the shooter had used a go-between for the sale, then his or her identity was still a secret.

"Call me the minute you have an update on Katrina or anything else." John insisted. He stabbed the end call button and angled his body so that he was facing her. "How's Aidan?"

"Asleep."

He made a rumbling sound deep within his throat and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm glad he's too young to know what's going on."

Brenna walked closer and sank down on the ottoman across from him. "What exactly is going on? Did Jay have any news?"

"Nothing that pleases me."

He turned again on the sofa, the movement dragging the right side of his shirt wider open so that it exposed even more of his chest. She'd been right about the tight muscles, but she also saw the scars. One angled across his left peck, and because his jeans rode loose and low on his hips, she could also see another one on his equally tightly muscled abdomen.

"How did that happen?" Without thinking, Brenna reached out and traced her finger over the scar on his abdomen.

She knew it was a mistaken when she heard John draw in his breath. It wasn't an ordinary breath. Nor was it sharp or even the sound of surprise. It was a low husky male sound that stirred the heat inside her again. The sound a man would make when having great sex.

That had her drawing her hand back. "Sorry." She shook her head and silently cursed. What was wrong with her? "Uh, you were talking about Jay."

John waited a moment, staring at her. "Jay traced the license plates to a dealership. Someone brought the vehicle yesterday afternoon, but you heard that it's a dead end."

"Maybe not." She took a deep breath to try to keep her head clear. "Maybe once the vehicle is found"

"My team found it about a half hour ago. It was in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse in south San Antonio. Someone had set fire to it and there doesn't appear to be any recoverable evidence."

After hearing that, it was difficult not to give in to the disappointment, but Brenna knew that John didn't need any more frustration. He was feeling enough for both of them.

"What about Katrina?" She asked. "How is she?"

John shook his head. "Good news on that front. She's better. She's supposed to meet with her doctor this afternoon and I'm getting an update once she's spoken to him. If she's going home anytime soon, I need to arrange security to monitor her house because I can't rule out that she's still a target, too."

In fact, there wasn't much of anything they could rule out. They still had four suspects: Ted DiBiase Sr, Leighanne, Michael and Alberto. And any one of them could have fired the shots or hired someone to do the job.

"You have so much on your mind." She mumbled.

"What about you?" His eyes skimmed over her again. From head to toe. "How are you doing?"

He reached out and caught her hand. Brenna tried not wince but his touch, no matter how slight, caused the scrapes on her palms to sting. The scrapes she'd gotten when he'd pushed her to the ground in the parking lot. Still, she preferred having his touch. For some reason, in addition to making her hotter than summer asphalt, John made her feel safe. But she rethought that.

He didn't just make her feel safe—he made her feel. And that in itself was nothing short of a miracle. He'd accomplished what years in therapy couldn't.

"I'm doing a lot better than you think I am." She forced herself to smile. "John what happened at the prison wasn't your fault."

"Like hell it wasn't."

Just like that, the tender moment was over. He got up, shoved his cell phone into the pocket of his jeans and walked to the bar. Or rather, he limped to the bar. He poured himself a glass of the Kentucky bourbon he'd had delivered to the room and he took the shot in one gulp. It must have been strong because it watered his eyes.

Brenna got up and went to him. "We went there looking information. Now, whether it was a setup or not, it still wasn't your fault. We can't stop looking for the truth and stayed cocooned in here."

"I can keep you cocooned." And he looked her straight in the eyes when he said that. "I can't put you in harm's way anymore."

"That's no really your decision to make, is it?" Brenna pointed out.

Anger flared through him. "You bet it is. I got you into this mess—"

"I got you into this mess." Brenna countered. But then she shook her head. "This discussion is obviously not going anywhere. We should be putting the blame on the shooter and not ourselves." She glanced down at his leg. "You're in pain."

At first, he looked as if he were about to deny it. "Some." He finally said.

She stepped closer and slid her arm around his waist. For her, it was a bold move. After all, they were alone and the energy between them was intense.

"A hot bath might help, or so I heard someone say." She said, trying to keep her tone soothing. Unfortunately, it came out as sultry. She heard her own low silky voice and fought the urge to run her fingers over his stomach again.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation?"

She smiled again, but it faded as quickly as it came. That's because she had to wonder—was it really an honest-to-goodness invitation or just the adrenaline talking? After all, she was standing very close to the hottest man she'd ever known. A man she desperately wanted. But was afraid to take.

So had the bath been her wussy way of offering herself to John? Brenna wasn't sure, but she figured there was an easy way to find out. She reached up to touch his face. However, reaching was as far as she got. John snagged her wrist and examined the scrapes on her right hand. Then he cursed.

Oh, mercy. She hadn't intended for him to see that. "It looks worse than it is." She said, trying to soothe some of that reborn anger.

"I did that."

"Yes, when you saved my life. Or maybe it happened when you put your body over mine so that you'd get shot and I wouldn't. Either way, I owe you and these scrapes are a minor price to pay for being alive."

John obviously didn't agree because he cursed again and would have moved away from her if she hadn't latched on to his arm. Brenna didn't allow doubts to enter her head. She leaned in to kiss him. But he beat her to it.

His mouth came to hers. The kiss was hard and hungry and Brenna knew this wasn't going to stop. She didn't want it to stop. And the kiss wasn't all she wanted to do. No. She fulfilled a little fantasy and ran her uninjured left hand down the length of his chest. Oh, yes. It was a great chest. And an even better stomach. Lots of muscles. Lots of strength. His reaction was good, too.

He caught her wrist and slid her hand lower, over the front of his jeans. John made that male sound again. The one that melted her body and made her want more. So she took more.

She shook off his grip and slid her hand inside his jeans. If she thought her pulse was jumping and body burning before that, it was a mild reaction compared to having him hard and ready in the palm of her hand.

John pulled back from the kiss and looked at her. He seemed to be examining her eyes, maybe to figure out if this was going where he thought it was. But while he watched her, while those sizzling eyes met hers, he took his own hand up her right thigh. He didn't move fast; at least not fast enough for her now burning body. He gave her enough time to stop it. But she had no intentions of stopping anything.

"I haven't had an orgasm in three years." She admitted.

That information caused a muscle to flicker in his jaw. "Then you're overdue for at least a couple."

While he tongue-kissed her neck and earlobe, John pushed up her skirt and his hand slid to her stomach. Then, lower. Into her panties. He didn't just touch her with his fingers. He went inside her. Touching her in just the right place.

Just like that, the sensations wracked her. The fire blazed through her. The need pinpointed to his touch. Her climax came in a flash. So fast. So hard. So intense. So overwhelming that she would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. Her body closed around his fingers. And Brenna felt herself fly right over the edge.

"That's one." John said. Right before he dragged her to the floor.

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	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty:

John refused to think about this. And he wouldn't consider stopping. That probably had something to do with the fact that Brenna had her hand in his jeans. Her fingers were wrapped around him. Or maybe it was because of the sweet silky moans she was making as she felt the aftershocks of her orgasm. It didn't matter why he was doing this or why he wasn't stopping. Hell, it didn't even matter if this was wrong. They were well past the point of logic, of doing the right thing.

Taking Brenna was the only thing that mattered. They landed on the soft carpeted floor, side by side. Face-to-face. Thankfully, others parts of them were aligned, as well. If her injured hand bothered her, she certainly didn't show any signs of it. His leg was hurting, he was sure of it, but the pain was numbed from his overwhelming need to take Brenna now.

Because her fingers began to slide up and down the length of him, John took her hand from his jeans. Brenna slid down, her mouth against his chest. And she kissed him, using her tongue and mouth to turn up the heat a notch. Not that he needed those kisses—he was primed—but he took a moment to savor what would likely be very short foreplay.

He'd thought the first climax would take the edge off for her. But it apparently had only made her want him more. Her kisses were urgent, almost frantic. And she didn't keep her hands stills, either. She slid them over him as if she knew the very secrets of what got him hot. And she probably did.

Since his body was craving any and everything she wanted to do to him. Because he wanted to give her more pleasure, John turned the tables on her. He slid down her body and stripped off her top so he could deliver some tongue kisses of his own. He kissed the tops of her breasts and had the pleasure of hearing that silky moan. He made her moan even harder when he took those kisses lower.

Man, she smelled like sex. And he wanted nothing more than to have that taste in his mouth. So, that's what he did. John rid her of her panties and gave her some kisses that she would hopefully never forget. He certainly wouldn't. She tasted as good as she smelled. Her cries roared through him, fueling the need that was already overwhelming.

Brenna rammed her fingers through his hair. "Again." She whispered. Oh, yeah. He intended to do that, too, but this time, he wanted to inside her.

John left her for a couple of seconds so he could fumble through his bag and find the condoms he'd had brought from his house. Brenna followed him. That was a sight, all right. A beautifully naked Brenna crawling her way toward him. With those beautiful blue eyes and her blond hair spilling all around her face, she was a vision. Apparently, a needy one, because she practically tackled him.

He landed on his back, with her on top of him. All in all, it was a good position. Until he remembered something. "Are you physically ready for this?" He asked, dreading that she might say no.

"I'm more than ready." She assured him. And she proved it by unzipping his jeans and stripping them off him.

Yes, she was ready. Mentally. But John forced himself to slow down just in case her body wasn't on the same willing level as the rest of her. She helped him with the condoms and damn near gave him a climax in the process. John rolled them over, so that he was on top of her. And because he couldn't wait any longer, he entered her. Gently.

He felt her body give way to him as he pushed through that silky heat. The pleasure was so intense that John lost his breath and didn't care if he ever found it. And then Brenna froze.

Startled, his gaze flew to hers. Her face was still flushed with arousal, and the heat was still in her eyes. "I'm claustrophobic." She said. "I've never had sex with a man on top of me."

John immediately started to change their positions so that she could be on top. But she latched on to him with both hands and even wrapped her legs around him.

"No, this is fine." The words spilled out, mixed with her rapid raw breath. "Better than fine. This is the way I want it, John. This is the way I want you."

She lifted her hips, pushing him deeper inside her. That did it. John took her assurance at face value and went with it. Later, much later, he'd consider what a gift of trust this was from her. But right now, he wanted a different kind of gift. One that would satisfy the heat raging inside.

He moved inside her. Long, penetrating strokes. Strokes that she deepened even more by moving with him. Each one took them closer. Higher. To the only place that either of them wanted to go.

"Again." Brenna whispered the sound shuddering on her lips. John obliged.

He slid into her one last time. He felt her body respond in the most basic, human way. Her fingers dug into his back. Her legs clamped harder around him. And John kissed her so he could taste her as she shattered again.

The sound woke him up. John snapped to a sitting position and reached for his gun. That was there. He fumbled around. Still didn't find it. And the sound continued. It took him a moment to orient himself. He glanced at the clock that was perched on a nightstand. According to the ruby-red numerals it was nearly 9:00 p.m. Thankfully, there was a light spilling from the adjoining bathroom so he could see where he was. He was in the hotel bed with Brenna.

She stirred, too, though she didn't immediately sit up. "Aidan." She mumbled.

That was the sound John had heard. Not an intruder or a gunman. His son was awake and was fussing, probably because he needed to be changed or fed. Brenna yawned and shoved her hair from her face. She looked disoriented, as well. And totally hot. Just the sight of her naked body made John want her all over again, but that would have to wait. Aidan got priority.

"How did we get in bed?" She asked, yawning again. She fumbled around the nightstand, located a nightgown and pulled it on.

"I moved you here after you fell asleep on the floor. You were obviously exhausted."

And she was also a little disoriented because she didn't get up. John climbed from the bed, put on his boxers and went to the bassinet to get Aidan. He scooped him up in his arms and brought him to Brenna. Though she was obviously still tired, Brenna took over. She pushed aside one side of her gown and Aidan latched on to her nipple so he could nurse.

That was a sight, too, and it elicited a totally different response in John. Brenna with their child in her arms. It made him feel warm and fuzzy. It also made him even more concerned. So far, he'd done a lousy job protecting them. Having sex with Brenna amid all the danger was definitely a lapse in judgment and concentration. Protecting them should be his only focus.

"I've never had sex on the floor before." She mumbled, her eyes meeting his. "It was great." But then Brenna frowned. "I know it also complicates things."

John didn't dare say he was thinking the same thing. He just let her continue. "You can interpret it whatever way you like." She said.

He flexed his eyebrows. It couldn't happen again. At least not until they'd caught the person who was trying to kill them. The silence settled uncomfortably between them. The only sound was of Aidan nursing and that wasn't enough to block out the thoughts going through his head. What the hell had he done?

In hindsight, it would have been a darn good idea to work out his feelings for Brenna before he'd had sex with her. Because of her past, she wasn't the strongest person and he had no right to play with her emotions. Heck, at a minimum he should have thought of their son. Brenna was right. Sex did complicate things—and they didn't need that. They already had enough complications.

"I think you cured my claustrophobia." She whispered. "You did what a hoard of therapists hadn't been able to do. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome." He said because he didn't know what else to say.

She met his eyes again. "No matter what happens, this isn't going to cause me to have some mental setback. Its okay, John. It's really okay."

He frowned. "Are you reading my mind?"

The corner of her mouth lifted, but it wasn't exactly a smile of humor. "Mind-reading isn't necessary. You've got that trapped look in your eyes."

He immediately tried to change his expression. "Well, I don't feel trapped." But the problem was he didn't know how he felt. "Because of my line of work, I've spent most of my adult life avoiding serious relationships. I always wanted kids, but I didn't figure one would be in my future this soon."

She nodded. Because of her childhood trauma, she'd certainly done her share of avoiding relationships. Aidan finished nursing and she put him on her shoulder to burp him. She leaned over and brushed a kiss on John's cheek. It wasn't a hot and lusty one, nor was it one of those mindless spousal pecks. It had a goodbye feel to it. And that bothered him.

"Its okay, John." Brenna said her voice light and feathery. "Having sex with me can mean as little as you want it to mean."

Hell that bothered him, too. And then it riled him. "What—"

But that was as far as he got in what would no doubt be an argument because the phone rang. He'd brought his jeans into the bedroom, but since he'd discarded them on the floor, he had to get off the bed and fish through the pocket to retrieve his cell.

"Cena." He snarled.

"It's Jay. There's a visitor for you here in the hotel lobby—Alberto Del Rio."

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	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-One:

John was certain that caused his scowl to deepen because Alberto Del Rio should have been nowhere near the place. He pressed the speaker function so that Brenna could hear the rest of the conversation.

"What does Del Rio want?" John asked. He glanced at Brenna. She was staring at the phone as if expecting to hear the worst.

"He has a package for you. I scanned it and it's not a bomb. He says it's a CD and that's what it appears to be."

Maybe it was the sample that Alberto had promised them. "Open it and verify that's what it is. And while you're doing that, let me talk to Alberto."

A moment later, the man came onto the line. "John, I have what you and I discussed at the prison and I'd like to give it to you in person."

"Well, we don't always get what we want, do we?" Because there was no way John was going to allow Alberto Del Rio anywhere near Brenna and Aidan. "Now, tell me how the hell you found out where I was staying?"

But John immediately thought of the meeting at the prison. The way Alberto had pulled Brenna and him into a huddle so he could tell them to meet him in the parking lot. During that embrace, he could have put a transmitter on them.

"You planted another tracker somewhere on our clothes." John snarled.

"I wouldn't do that." There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice. Enough to confirm that Alberto had done just that. "Maybe I just have a nose for finding people."

"You're an SOB, you know that." But John silently added much harsher profanity. Not just for Alberto. But for himself. He should have checked their clothes; the shooting had distracted him. He'd let himself get distracted too often lately.

"So?" Alberto asked. "Can I come up and have a beer and a man-to-man chat with you?"

"Not on your worthless life. Leave the disk with Reso and once I've listened to it, I'll be in touch with you." Or better yet, he'd be in touch with the police.

"Oh, you'll want to hear more." Alberto insisted. "A lot more."

John hoped that was true. But while he was hoping that he also thought there might be evidence on that disk for the police to make an arrest. Of course, there was no way Alberto would incriminate himself. Still, there might be something to nail Leighanne or Michael and maybe one or both of them would incriminate Alberto. John wanted the man arrested for something.

"I sent your visitor on his way and I'm having hotel security monitor him to make sure he leaves the building." Jay said, coming back onto the line. "I'm on my way up to bring you the disk."

"Once you've dropped it off, make sure Alberto Del Rio doesn't come back." John insisted.

Brenna got up from the bed and placed Aidan in the bassinet. She also began to get dressed. What she didn't do was look at him.

John dressed too, so he could go to the door and get the disk from Jay. He took his gun with him when he went to answer the knock. Jay handed him the single silver CD that had "Careless Whispers" handwritten on it with a permanent marker. The plastic case covering the disk was wet.

"It's raining and sleeting." Jay let him know when John ran his index finger through the moisture. "There's a bad storm moving in tonight."

With the thick drapes closed, John hadn't been aware of the change of weather. But he had to wonder—why had Alberto braved the weather to get this recording to them? He could have had a courier bring it over. Unless he had something more sinister in mind. With Alberto, that wasn't too much of a stretch.

John thanked Jay for the CD, closed the door and locked it quickly as he could. He only hoped that Alberto wasn't using the delivery of the recording as a ruse to try to get to them.

Brenna came into the sitting room where he was putting the disk into the CD player in the entertainment unit. There was a hiss of static and then, as clear as a bell, he heard Leighanne's voice.

"I want this surrogate. She's the only one who's come in that looks like me. That's why I arranged to have her inseminated with that semen I got from Cryogentic." Judging from her tone she was repeating the information or arguing with someone. Her voice was tight and adamant. And Leighanne was no doubt talking about Brenna.

Brenna walked closer, obviously disturbed with hearing the confirmation of Leighanne's plan. A plan that had succeeded in creating a child.

"I can't go along with this." Someone on the disk said. John easily recognized that voice, too. It was none other than Alberto Del Rio.

"Oh, but you will go along with it." Leighanne demanded. "As a favor to my father. You know these people here at Covington. You know how to make this work for me."

Here at Covington. So they were at the clinic for this little chat. And if Leighanne had already started the whole surrogacy process, then it was—approximately what date? Early April maybe, since that was the month of Brenna insemination. Or perhaps it was even May and Brenna was already pregnant.

Maybe there'd be a surveillance video to confirm this meeting. John wouldn't mind seeing the pair's body language to try to determine if anything other than the obvious was going on. It was possible that Alberto was simple using this recording to make Leighanne look as guilty as possible. Of course, Leighanne was guilty, but John wasn't convinced she was in on this alone.

"Favors don't' extend this far." Alberto informed her. "I won't help you kidnap a woman and steal her baby. My advice? If you want your boyfriend back, a baby's not the way to do it, anyway. Try liberal amounts of tequila and some scented massage oils. That works for me."

"Maybe you don't understand what I'm saying." Leighanne again. She was really riled now. "This isn't a request. One way or another, I will get a baby."

"Surrogacy is sooo messy." Alberto said. John remembered the man saying that before in reference to Ted DiBiase, Sr. "Especially when there are much easier ways to go about this. Let me give you someone to contact. She recently moved into the home for unwed mothers that's near here. Her name is Katrina O'Neal and she's pregnant."

John hadn't expected to hear Katrina's name pop up in this particular conversation. Of course, he knew Katrina had worked undercover at Covington, but he hadn't thought she'd used her real name.

"So?" Leighanne fired back.

"So, Katrina O'Neal can assist you in finding a suitable child to adopt from the home, and then you can always fake the DNA results for your boyfriend. If you need any help with that, just let me know. I have friends who have friends who work in DNA labs."

Leighanne didn't answer right away. "I can trust this woman, Katrina O'Neal?"

Alberto laughed. "As much as you can trust anyone around here. But I'm going to give you some leverage when it comes to her. Leverage that will force her to cooperate in case she gives you any resistance."

"What kind of leverage?"

"The best kind. Katrina O'Neal is an undercover cop of sorts. Her assignment hasn't' been sanctioned by SAPD. She's a renegade. Keep that hush-hush, just between us. If the clinic director finds out, she'll murder Sgt. O'Neal and I wouldn't want that to happen. I might need a cop if the Feds investigate this place. Go to Katrina O'Neal. Put in your baby request. Pay her well. And she'll stay quiet because she won't have a choice."

That was it. The recording ended.

John and Brenna stood there in silence. Letting it all sink in. John not believing what the heck he'd just heard.

"Was Katrina working for Alberto?" Brenna asked.

"No." But John didn't like the silver of doubt that he felt creep into his mind. "Besides, Alberto could have doctored this recording. I won't know if it's authentic until I've sent it to the lab for testing."

Alberto Del Rio is a slimy jerk, John reminded himself. Katrina O'Neal is a former cop. If it came down to it, he'd trust Katrina.

Still it wouldn't hurt to verify a few things. He took his cell phone and called Katrina's room at the hospital. It was late, but hopefully she'd still be awake. It took four rings before anyone answered. And that person on the other end of the line definitely wasn't Katrina O'Neal.

It was Zack Ryder, the team member he'd assigned to guard Katrina at the hospital.

"This is John. Where is she?"

"I was just about to call you. Katrina's gone."

John felt his stomach tighten. "Gone where?"

"I don't know. And I'm not sure how she got out of her room. I didn't see her leave."

His stomach tightened even more. "So someone could have kidnapped her?"

"Maybe. But it doesn't look that way, John?"

"Then what the hell does it look like?" But John instinctively knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

Zack Ryder cleared his throat. "It looks as if she sneaked out. As to why she'd do that—it's anyone's guess."

Oh, John had a guess, several of them, in fact. And none of them were good.

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	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Two:

"Katrina left the hospital?" Brenna repeated after hearing John's account of what'd happened. "Why would she do something like that?"

John stayed quiet for a moment; the only sound was the partially frozen rain battering against the trio of windows in the sitting room. "I'm not sure."

He tried to call Katrina's cell phone again, but through the tiny speaker, Brenna heard the call go directly to voicemail, just as the other calls had done. The woman apparently wasn't answering tonight. Brenna could tell from John's stiff posture and tight jaw that he was not happy about this latest development. She wasn't exactly happy about it, either. They already had enough unsolved riddles without adding this one.

"Something obviously went wrong at the hospital." John mumbled. "That's why Katrina left. That's the only explanation for it."

"But is she even medically okay to be away from her doctors?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it, which tells us something. Whatever happened must have been serious enough for her to risk her health by leaving."

Brenna didn't like the obvious conclusion of that. "She might have thought she was in imminent danger. But then, why wouldn't she have just gone to your team member since he was in the hall guarding her?"

His jaw tightened even more. "I have no idea. But I'll find out."

He tried Katrina's number again and then cursed under his breath when she still didn't answer. John had his thumb poised over the button to redial her number again, but another call rang through.

"Cena." He answered immediately, using the speaker function so Brenna could hear.

"It's me."

Not Katrina, but Alberto Del Rio. Brenna groaned. Now was not the time another dose of Alberto.

"Tell me about Katrina O'Neal."

"Tell me what you know about my frickin' house." Alberto countered. "Who the hell set fire to it?"

Surprised and concerned, Brenna walked closer and sank down on the sofa next to John. She touched his arm and rubbed gently. It didn't seem to help. His muscles stayed tight and knotted.

"I don't know who set fire to your house." John answered, after taking a weary breath. "But please tell me you didn't have your recordings stashed there."

"Oh, they were there, all right, in a hidden floor vault in the basement. I'm still on my way there, but according to the police, it looks as if everything down in that basement was destroyed. I'm guessing that the intense heat would have melted the disks. A coincidence? I don't think so and that's why I want some answers from you."

Brenna squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to curse. Those recordings were their best chance at an arrest and now they were gone. And no, it wasn't a coincidence.

"Now, here's the question, John." Alberto continued. "Did you tell Leighanne that I'd given you the sample of our conversation?"

"No. I haven't had time. In fact, I just finished listening to it about a half hour ago. Do the police suspect arson in your house fire?"

"You bet your butt they do. According to their preliminary search, someone doused the basement with accelerant. A lot of it. And since I was at your hotel dropping off the recording, I obviously wasn't home to stop this idiotic firebug or to call 911."

"But you suspect Leighanne?" John clarified.

"Of course. Who else?"

Leighanne was a solid suspect, but Brenna had to wonder—could Katrina O'Neal have done this? After all, that recording insinuated that she was a dirty cop. Of course, in that recording Alberto was the one who'd accused Katrina of being dirty and Alberto wasn't exactly a trustworthy guy. He could have made those accusations or even doctored the recording to make himself sound more innocent than he really was.

Alberto was droning on about John having to do something to stop all of this nonsense when Brenna heard the slight click.

"Sorry." John said immediately to Alberto. "I have to. I have another call coming in. But good luck looking for that arsonist." The sarcasm drowned his voice. "When or if find the person responsible, let me know."

Brenna stood, went to the bar to pour herself a glass of mineral water. However, she stopped when she heard the caller's voice on John's speakerphone.

John caught Brenna's gaze before he answered the call. The frustration was still there in his eyes, but there was a small amount of relief. Brenna felt it, too. Because until she'd heard Katrina's voice, she'd had a niggling fear in the back of her mind that the woman might be dead.

"Katrina." John greeted her. "I've been trying to reach you."

"Yes, I saw your name on my caller ID, but I couldn't answer the phone right then. I couldn't be sure that no one was following me."

Well, that sounded ominous, but then Brenna hadn't expected Katrina to deliver good news.

"Where are you?" John asked.

"I'd rather not say, just in case the line isn't secure." Her voice was shaky. "I found a tiny transmitter on my dinner tray, right there next to a carton of milk."

"Alberto." John mouthed.

Brenna had to agree. Alberto had certainly been active in planting bugs and it wouldn't have been difficult to put one on a hospital tray.

"And when the nurse opened the door to my room." Katrina continued. "I thought I saw Michael Cole lurking around in the hall. Since I knew I couldn't defend myself, I couldn't hang around and wait to see what he was going to do."

John groaned. "And that's why you left?"

"I got a really bad feeling, John. Like something horrible was about to happen. The last time I ignored a feeling like that, someone tried to kill me at Covington."

"My guard would have protected you." John reminded her.

"Maybe, but I couldn't stay in that room. And I knew I'd made the right decision about leaving when I heard about the fire."

That obviously grabbed his attention. "How did you hear about the fire?"

"I called my office. When no one answered, I phoned a colleague. He said that someone had set fire to the office and that everything inside was probably destroyed. That includes the hard copy files and some of the other evidence that the police had confiscated from Covington."

Brenna nearly laughed, not from humor, but from the insanity of it all. Two fires in the same night. And both had destroyed what could have been the evidence they needed to solve his case. It wasn't a coincidence. The person responsible was trying to cover their tracks.

"I have to go." Katrina said. Her voice wasn't just shaky, it was weak. Brenna was feeling so skeptical, however, that she had to wonder if it was all an act. Maybe Katrina wasn't as weak from her injury as everyone thought. "I'll call you when I get a chance."

With that, Katrina hung up, leaving John and Brenna with more questions than ever. John sat there quietly for several moments before he picked up the baby monitor that was positioned so he could see Aidan sleeping in his bassinet. Brenna knew what he was thinking. The stakes were so high, and the person responsible for the danger just kept eluding them.

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	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Three:

"Is Leighanne capable of setting two fires?" Brenna asked.

John nodded. "But she also could have hired someone to do it so she wouldn't get her hands dirty."

"Or it could have been Michael who's responsible. After all, Katrina said she thought she saw him in the hall of the hospital."

Neither of them stated the obvious: that Katrina could have been mistaken. Or lying. She could have left the hospital to set fire to Alberto's house. But there was no motive for burning her own office. Just the opposite. From what Brenna had learned about her, Katrina was obsessed with finding out the truth of what'd happened to her own baby. Even if she was dirty, she wouldn't have destroyed the very evidence that would help her with that search. And that led them right back to Leighanne and Michael.

"We have the recording." Brenna reminded him. Do you think the police can do anything with it?"

"Man, I hope so." He put the baby monitor aside and went to the CD player to retrieve it. "I'll have one of my men drive it to the Ranger crime lab in Austin. There might be something we can use." John stood there staring at her. "You're exhausted. Why don't you go ahead to bed and get some rest while Aidan's sleeping? I'll wake you as soon as Jay's made the arrangements for us to leave."

She was beyond exhausted but she was more interested in getting some things straight with John. Since they'd had sex, there seemed to be a distance between them. The problem was Brenna didn't know if or how she should address it. Maybe this was John's way of backing off, to give himself some time to think. She certainly needed time.

Things had moved so fast between them and there were times, like now, when she felt as though they were on a speeding train that was about to jump the tracks. She'd been the one to initiate sex and she didn't regret it. No, she could never regret it because it'd been one of the most memorable experiences of her life. But logically, she had to look at what this was going to do to them. And that's why she, too, needed to back off, to give them both some breathing room.

"Go ahead to bed." John insisted. He walked to her and slid his arm around her waist. He brushed a kiss on her temple. "I'll join you after I give this recording to Jay."

Just like that, her worries about derailing trains and breathing room vanished. The simple kiss, embrace and soft reassurance were stark reminders that she wasn't in control here. Her heart was. That should have scared her to death. But it didn't. This felt right.

And that's what scared her, because there was nothing she could do to change the course her heart was taking. She was falling in love with John.

He kissed her again, easing her closer to him. And the closeness and the kiss stirred her need for him all over again. Brenna pulled back to meet his gaze and was on the verge of insisting he go ahead and give Jay the disk so he, too, could come back to bed.

But then, without warning, the lights went out. The room was suddenly pitch black.

"The storm." She whispered. "It must have knocked out the electricity."

John pulled away from her and she felt him fumble around for something. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw what he had picked up from the coffee table. His gun. Her breath stalled in her lungs. Because she knew this might not be a power outage after all. The person who wanted them dead might be responsible.

"Go to Aidan." John ordered. "Stay there until you hear from me." He didn't wait for her to respond. With his gun gripped in his hands, he hurried toward the suite door.

John braced himself for anything that might happen when he stepped from the suite and into the hall. There was no chance he believed bad weather had knocked out the electricity. Not with their luck. Besides, the hotel would almost certainly have a backup generator and since it hadn't kicked in John had to assume the worst. The gunman had returned to finish what he'd started.

With his gun ready, John opened the suite door and checked the hall. Kenzie was there, obviously alarmed. She too was armed and looked ready to do battle. Good. He needed all the help he could get.

"Go in the bedroom and wait with Brenna and the baby." John instructed.

He waited until Kenzie had done that before he ventured a few steps down the hall and away from the door.

"Jay?" John called out in the darkness.

"I'm here by the stairs. I want to make sure no one gets up here."

That was a start. "What happened? Why did the electricity go out?"

"The manager doesn't know yet. I just got off the phone with him and he's checking it out. I warned him that someone might have tampered with the main circuits."

Again, that was a good start, but it wasn't enough. Of course, nothing might be enough with Aidan and Brenna in danger. "What about any other points of entry? I don't want anyone getting up here."

"The elevators aren't working. There's a service entrance at the end of this corridor, but even if anyone comes up through those stairs, they'd still have to get past me to get to you."

"No one gets past you." John let him know. It wasn't a suggestion. Jay was well trained and would have to use that training to stop the threat. "How many men do we have in the hotel?"

"Five. Me, you, Kenzie and two more downstairs. Those two are posted by the service entrance and the stairs."

So all points of entry were covered. In theory. But John had to be ready just in case someone had found another way to gain access. There was only one window, located at the end of the hall. John went to it and checked outside. It confirmed what he already suspected. The River Walk was all lit up. No power outages there, which meant whoever cut the power was already in the building and had disconnected the backup generator. Hell.

He did not want to put Brenna and Aidan through this again. There was another problem with the window, too. Not just this particular one either, but all the windows. With the power out, John automatically assumed that their shooter might make a direct attack to the room, the cutting the lights could be a ploy; the attack could come from a sniper positioned in the hotel on the other side of the River Walk. That's why he needed to remind Brenna to stay away from the windows.

However, before he could do that, there was a slight sound and John whirled around. Ready to fire. "It's me." He heard Brenna say as she opened the suite door. "Your cell phone rang and I answered it. It's Michael Cole, and he says it's important."

John cursed again, automatically suspicious. Was this call some kind of ploy? Or maybe Michael knew what was going on. So that she wouldn't have to come out into the hall and potentially be in the line of fire from that window, John went to her.

"Make sure you stay away from the windows." John whispered.

She nodded and handed him the phone. "Kenzie and I moved Aidan and his bassinet into the bathroom. There aren't any windows there."

And that meant he was as safe as John could manage. He hated that it didn't seem nearly enough.

"Cena." John answered. He didn't launch into accusations or a verbal attack, though he wanted to do just that. He waited to see what Michael considered "important" enough to call him.

"The police questioned me again." Michael started. "About the shooting at the prison. I was in that dingy little interrogation room for more than two hours. They did that because you told them that I might have been the one who did it."

"Were you?" John didn't take his attention off the corridor. He wanted to make sure that no one came up either set of stairs and got past Jay. He also eased Brenna several inches back into the suite.

"No. And don't bring up that lunacy about me wanting revenge for you rescuing that woman in South America. Killing you wouldn't get me those shares and I prefer to concentrate my energies on my business."

"I wish I could believe that." John said certain that he sounded disinterested. "But I don't. And I don't have time to rehash this now."

"You're focusing on the wrong person, John, and that's a deadly mistake."

That caused John to pause a moment. "You mean Alberto or Leighanne? Oh, I suspect them, too. But that doesn't let you off the hook. For starters, why were you at the hospital earlier and why were you skulking around outside Katrina O'Neal's room?" John figured that Michael would launch into another adamant denial. He didn't.

"I wanted to see Katrina. Because I think she's linked to all of these attempts to kill you."

John groaned. "Have you been talking to Alberto Del Rio?"

"No." Michael's answer was quick, but maybe that was because he'd anticipated the question and was ready.

"Then why would you think Katrina is connected with the attempts to kill me?" And why were both Alberto and Michael so eager to accuse a former cop of wrongdoing? Probably to cover their own guilt.

At least, John hoped that's what it was. He hated the doubts that kept creeping into his mind, but he was a man alive because of doubts. Because he questioned things that most people would have considered safe. Was that what he was doing now?

"After you wrongfully accused me of the shooting and the car explosion." Michael continued. "I did some checking. Over the past five months, someone has attempted to kill several of the people associated with the Covington Birthing Center."

"I know about that." John, too, had researched them. In all four cases, the culprits had been caught. "That doesn't mean Katrina had anything to do with those attempts."

"Well, someone did and it's not me. I want my name cleared."

"You should talk to Leighanne about that." John let him know. "If you want to do some finger pointing, her direction is always the best place to start."

"Leighanne and I aren't on speaking terms anymore. I saw how she looked at you at the prison and I confronted her about it. It's over between us. She lied to me—she's still in love with you, John."

"Hardly. She's obsessed with the fact that she can't have me. That's not love."

And this conversation was going nowhere. He was also starting to get the feeling that Michael might have ulterior motives for this call. Was Michael using some kind of signal from John's phone to pinpoint their location inside the hotel? Equipment like that wasn't easy to come by, but it was too big of a risk to take.

He didn't say goodbye to Michael and didn't give him any indication that he was hanging up. John merely punched the end call button and turned to tell Brenna that he wanted her inside the bathroom. For an extra measure of security, he tossed his phone on the floor so he'd put some distance between it and them.

Once he had her safely tucked away, he wanted to give his phone a more thorough examination. He gently took her arm and in the darkness caught her gaze. "I just need to make sure you're safe." He whispered. She nodded. Stepped back.

Just as an explosion tore through the corridor.

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	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Four:

One second Brenna was standing and the next second John had shoved her back onto the floor of the suite. It wasn't a moment too soon because along with that deafening blast came a cloud of dust and debris. It took a moment to regain her breath and for her brain to register what was happening. Someone had set off an explosive.

With her heart ramming against her chest, Brenna looked at John to make sure he hadn't been hurt. It was difficult to see him in the murky, dark room, but his catlike moment to get back to the door told her that he was probably okay. And he was ready to strike back at whoever was responsible for this. Which made her think—just how much damage had been done to the hotel? And to whom?

"Aidan." She managed to say.

"Check on him." John insisted. But he wouldn't go. Couldn't go. Because she knew he had to stand guard to make sure the bomber didn't get into the room with them.

John raced through the sitting room and into the bedroom. Their son had to be okay. He just had to be. Thankfully, the bathroom was at the end of the suite away from the explosion, and there were no sign of dust and debris in here.

"Is Aidan okay?" Brenna called out. She listened for any sounds and couldn't hear anything. No crying. No sound of any movement. That didn't make Brenna feel better.

"He's fine." Kenzie assured her. Brenna was so overwhelmed with relief that tears sprang to her eyes.

Kenzie opened the bathroom door just a fraction. She had her gun drawn and was obviously ready to defend Aidan. "What's going on?"

Brenna peeked in to make sure Aidan was okay. He was. "Someone set off a bomb. Stay put until we can sort things out."

"Do you need my help?" Kenzie asked.

"No." Brenna motioned toward the sitting room. "But I need to check on John. I won't be long. And I'll keep the hotel room door in my line of sight to make sure that no one gets inside here."

Brenna rushed back into the sitting area. She pulled in her breath and smelled the smoke. "Is there a fire?" She called out to John. The possibility of it made her heart beat even faster.

"I don't think so. I think it might just be sparks from the explosion." John made his way just outside the corridor. "How's Aidan?"

"He's okay. I don't think the explosive eve woke him up." She hoped it stayed that way for a while. And then Brenna heard a sound she didn't want to hear.

Someone was moaning in pain. It wasn't loud. But she could clearly hear it. For one terrifying moment, she thought it might be Aidan or Kenzie. But this sound wasn't coming from the suite. It was coming from the corridor.

"Jay?" John shouted.

Oh, God. With everything going on, she'd forgotten about Jay Reso. The man had been at the end of the hall near the elevators and even though she didn't know exactly where the explosion had originated, Jay had liked been right in the path.

"Stay here." John warned her. "And just in case someone hasn't already done it, try to use the hotel phone to call 911 and request an ambulance.'

Brenna hadn't thought her fears and concerns could get any worse, but they did when she saw John move in the direction of the explosion. He was obviously going to check on Jay. She knew it had to be done, but she hated that John had to risk his life for it to happen.

She covered her mouth and nose with her hand to keep from breathing in the smoke and dust and went to the phone on the table near the sofa. There was no dial tone.

Brenna didn't give up. She remembered John tossing his cell phone on the floor in the corridor. She didn't know why he'd done that, but maybe if the debris hadn't covered it, she'd still be able to find it. Moving cautiously, she peeked around the doorframe to make sure it was safe to go out there, but all she could see was the darkness. At the other end of the hall, there were sounds of John moving around, and she could even hear voice. Hopefully that meant that Jay was all right.

Stooping, she ran her hands over the floor to search for the phone. Her fingers encountered something. A chunk of plaster, she realized, and it was a stark reminder of just how close they'd come to being in the path of that blast. After all, only seconds earlier, they'd been in that very corridor.

"How's Jay?" She called out to John while she still searched for the phone.

"Alive." John said. "But he needs a doctor-fast. He's hurt bad."

Brenna was afraid he was going to say that. She coughed and swished her hand in front of her face, hoping to clear the smoke and dust so she could breathe. "The hotel phone isn't working. I'm trying to find your cell phone now."

Frantically, she tossed aside more chunks of plaster and wood and wished she had her own cell phone. Unfortunately, she'd had to leave it at her house in the aftermath of the other explosion—the one that's destroyed John's car.

This explosion had already done far more damage than the first one and if she didn't find that phone to call the ambulance, Jay might die. But Brenna froze. She detected some movement at the end of the corridor where John and Jay were. She had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was neither Jay nor John. There was a thump, but she couldn't distinguish what had happened. Maybe, just maybe, it was John repositioning Jay so he could tend to his injuries.

"John?" Brenna asked, terrified of what she would or wouldn't hear. "Are you okay?" He didn't answer. Not right away.

"Leighanne." He said.

Slowly Brenna stood and tried to pick through the dark corridor to see why John had said the woman's name. But Brenna was afraid she knew why. Mercy, was Leighanne at the end of that corridor? And was she holding a gun on John? Brenna refused to think beyond that. Leighanne hadn't hurt John or worse. And she'd better not try.

Anger surged through her and Brenna wrapped her hand around a thick strip of wood that the explosion had displaced. It was part of a door frame and if necessary, Brenna was going to use it to stop Leighanne from doing anything to John or the rest of them.

There was more movement, more voices that she couldn't understand. A woman's voice. And that was Brenna's cue to get moving, as well. Because of the debris and a partially collapsed wall, she couldn't exactly run through the corridor, but she hurried. She had to get to John in time.

The old nightmares returned. Of the night she'd raced through the house to try to save her parents. Only to find them dead. Only to find herself under attack from their killers. As always, the images were brutal. She could taste the fear in her mouth. But that fear didn't stop her. Nor did the threat of a panic attack. She had only one goal. To get to John. And nothing was going to stop her.

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	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Brenna maneuvered around the collapsed wall and finally saw the two shadowy figures. There was another person or something shaped like a person lying on the floor. Jay, probably. And that meant that John and Leighanne were standing.

Did the woman have a gun, and was she holding it on John? Maybe Leighanne had managed to sneak up on him while he was trying to take care of Jay. Unfortunately, that was a good theory because neither of them was moving. Maybe that meant Leighanne had a gun pointed to John's head.

Brenna didn't call out John's name. She tried not to make a sound, just in case it wasn't too late to have the element of surprise on her side. With the wood strip gripped in her hand, Brenna charged forward. Only to come to a complete stop.

When one of the shadowy figures dropped to the floor. Her heart dropped, too and she heard herself cry out John's name.

"I'm okay." John told her.

She didn't believe him because her mind was still racing with so many thoughts of what Leighanne might have done to him. Brenna stopped and forced her eyes to focus in the darkness. She finally saw John. He was standing. But he was the only one of the three who was. Jay was on the floor to his left. He was moving, his chest pumping as if he were fighting for every breath. And directly in front of John was Leighanne. Not moving. Not breathing. Judging from her limp body, the woman was dead.

John heard Brenna yell for him, but before he could answer, Leighanne staggered forward and collapsed against him. She was shivering and clutching her chest. He saw the blood spatters on her clothes and face. God, what happened to her?

"What were you doing in what's left of that stairwell?" He asked. "You set the bomb, didn't you?" She moved her mouth, trying to speak. But it sounded as if she were drowning in gravel.

Brenna raced toward them, and he looked up to catch her gaze so she could see he was all right. The eye contact was brief because both of them turned their attention back to Leighanne.

"Jo—hn." Leighanne mumbled. "I'm sorry."

The last syllable had hardly left her mouth when she went limp. There was no final breath. No other sound. He saw the life drain from her body. John stood there, trying to absorb what's just happened and even after several long moments, he still didn't know what was going on.

How had Leighanne gotten onto the stairs of the service entrance? He'd had a man guarding them from the lobby since long before the explosion. Unless she'd slipped past earlier, and then…what? Set the explosion? That made sense. Well, it made sense as much as it could with Leighanne involved.

Brenna stopped and put her fingers to Leighanne's neck, checking for a pulse. She wouldn't find one. Leighanne had literally staggered out of what was left of the service stairwell and collapsed against John. She'd tried to speak. But John hadn't understood what she'd tried to tell him. That's because within moments after coming from that stairwell, she'd dropped dead.

"She's not breathing." Brenna whispered.

Her voice was shaky, and that gave John something else to be concerned with. All of this might launch Brenna into a panic attack.

"I thought she was going to try to kill you." Brenna said, standing.

"I thought the same thing." He touched her arm, just to let her know that he was there in case she needed him. "Leighanne must have been injured in the explosion."

She lifted her eyes to meet his. "So, you didn't do this to her?"

He shook his head. "I think she might have set the explosion. Maybe it went off before she could get out of here."

Brenna's breathe shuttered. "And if so, that means she was trying to kill us."

"Yeah."

John left it at that, because they both already knew she had motive. Though he'd never, never understand the obsession Leighanne had had with him. She'd endangered a child that she was partly responsible for creating simply so she could get back at him. Later, he'd try to terms with that, but right now, he had a more pressing matter. Jay needed an ambulance.

"Did you find the cell phone?" John asked Brenna.

"No. it's still back there by the suite door, somewhere on the floor."

He leaned down and checked Jay. Unlike Leighanne, his pulse was steady and strong. He was also unconscious. But judging from what Jay had told him right after John got to him, the man had some broken ribs. Maybe even a collapsed lung. If all that weren't bad enough, he was bleeding from a deep gash on his arm. He was losing way too much blood.

"You think you can put a tourniquet or something on Jay's arm?" John asked Brenna.

She nodded, though she didn't look certain. He could understand why. A dead woman. An injured man. This had to be giving her some serious flashbacks of the death of her parents. That's why he had to hurry. He didn't want her alone any longer than absolutely necessary.

John started to make his way in that direction when the lights came on. Not the overheads, but the smaller light sconces on the walls. Someone had obviously turned on the backup generator. And that gave John his first real look at what had happened.

It looked like chaos. There was debris everywhere, scattered along the entire length of the corridor. But only one guest room had been damaged. The one closest to the explosion. Thankfully, the impact hadn't gotten anywhere near the suite where Aidan was. He needed to get all of them out of the hotel. Even though the threat from Leighanne was over—permanently—he didn't know if the hotel structure had been compromised by the explosion. Plus, he didn't want Brenna and Aidan to have to be in this mess any longer than necessary.

John hurried past the debris. He needed that phone, though he was almost certain that by now someone in his crew or the hotel staff had called the police. Still, he could speed things up by requesting an ambulance.

He dug through the chunks of drywall and finally located the cell phone. He turned it on, staring at the screen, waiting until he could press in 911.

"John." He heard Brenna say.

He immediately heard the panic in her voice and wondered if this was all too much for her. He shouldn't have left her with Leighanne's body.

"I'm here." He said, standing so he could go to her. But John only managed a step before he stopped in his tracks.

Brenna was there, at the end of the corridor. Leighanne and Jay were still on the floor. But there was someone standing behind Brenna. And that someone had a gun pressed to her head.

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	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-six:

Brenna hadn't heard the footsteps until it was too late. The arm snapped around her neck. Too fast for her to do anything to stop it. Just as fast, someone dragged her to her feet. Before she could even make a sound, she felt the cold hard barrel of a handgun jam against her right temple. And the fear and the adrenaline sliced through her. She struggled, shoving her weight about the person, but the chokehold only tightened until she couldn't breathe.

Brenna had no idea who her attacker was, and she couldn't look back because the person was literally holding her in place with a choke hold and that gun. She managed to say John's name, though she didn't know how. There wasn't much air getting through her windpipe and she thought this person might kill her where she stood.

She saw John then. She watched his face as he registered what was happening to her. And she hated that she'd said his name. Brenna had meant it was a warning. So that he could try to get away, but in hindsight, that was a stupid and possibly fatal mistake. Because John would never leave her with a killer.

She braced herself for the flashbacks. For a full-blown panic attack. But it didn't come. Instead, there was a greater fear, far worse than anything that had happened in her past. Because if this killer took out both John and her, then he or she might go after Aidan. Their son might be hurt.

John walked toward her. Or rather, he stormed toward her. But her attacker merely rammed the gun harder against her temple and the chokehold tightened until Brenna started gasping for air. That stopped John, and he lowered his gun to his side when the attacker motioned for him to do so.

"You should have both died in the explosion." Her attacker said. "I miscalculated which room you were in. I guess the maid I bribed was misinformed."

The moment she heard his words, she had no trouble recognizing the voice. Alberto Del Rio.

"The police will be here soon." Alberto added.

"Too soon for you to escape." John insisted. He inched toward them.

Alberto made a sound of disagreement. "The elevators are blocked. Stairwells, too, because I fixed each door so that they won't open. It'll take them a while to get up here. By then, I'll be gone. And so will you, literally. Say goodbye to him, Brenna."

Brenna frantically shook her head and considered begging Alberto to rethink this, but it wouldn't do any good. He'd obviously come to kill them. But why?

She'd understood Leighanne's motive, perhaps even Michael's if he truly had wanted revenge against John. But Alberto had been the last on her list of suspects.

"Was Leighanne your partner?" John asked, probably to stall Alberto's attempt to execute them.

She felt Alberto move slightly and she thought he might have looked down at the lifeless woman.

"What a bimbo." He grumbled. "I helped her with the surrogacy because she paid me an obscene amount of money and because she wasn't supposed to tell a soul. You see how well she kept that promise. But she works out very well to be scapegoat, don't you think? She'll get the blame for your deaths. And speaking of which, it's time to die. I bet the police are already in the building and are trying to figure out how to get up here."

Alberto was saying all the right things to make him sound like a cold-blooded killer, but because he was practically wrapped around her, Brenna could feel him trembling. He was scared, too and killing someone face-to-face wasn't nearly as easy as he'd probably thought it would be.

"Let Brenna go." John said, taking another step forward. Brenna could see his hand tense on his gun. His finger was still on the trigger. "You have no reason to kill her."

"I beg to differ. Between the two of you, you can put me in jail with your testimony. That's why I've been after you two."

John huffed. "You're actually going to kill us to avoid jail time?"

"A long jail time. Women were murdered at Covington and I knew about it. I even covered up evidence. Eventually Katrina O'Neal would have discovered that and she would have had you two to fill in the rest so you could all testify against me."

"So you plan to kill Katrina, too?"

"Once I'm done here. She shouldn't be hard to find. A wounded ex-cop without a lot of friends won't have a lot of places she can go. Don't." Alberto warned when John came even closer.

"I can't just let you kill her." John said.

"There's nothing you or I can do about it."

Oh yes, there was. Brenna didn't know what exactly, but she wasn't just going to stand there and let him kill both John and her.

She thought of her son again and fixed the image of him in her head. Aidan couldn't lose both of his parents. She wouldn't let him go through what had happened of her. Not when she could do something to stop it.

John's index finger tensed on the trigger. Alberto tense, too. She felt his stance change slightly. There was no more trembling. He was within seconds of pulling that trigger.

Brenna didn't think beyond doing something, though she really didn't have a plan. Moving as fast as she could, she ducked down her head and in the same motion, she rammed her elbow into Alberto's stomach. It worked. Sort of.

He still fired the shot, but because she'd moved, it didn't hit her. However, her heart nearly stopped when she considered where the bullet could have gone.

"John!" She called out.

She dropped to the ground and tried to catch a glimpse of him, to make sure he was all right. But she wasn't able to do that because Alberto latched on to her hair and tried to drag her back in front of him.

He was strong, much stronger than she was, and she couldn't catch her breath. She was losing the battle until Alberto shoved the gun against her neck. Right on the scars. That was a huge mistake for him to make. Because it didn't make her weak. She didn't want to surrender. She wanted to fight back. It wasn't just raw adrenaline that slammed through her. There was fury and rage. She was not going to go through this again.

Brenna used the force from her forearm to knock the gun away from her throat. Alberto fired again. But she didn't try to maneuver herself away from him. Instead, she launched herself at him. Brenna scratched at his face, hitting him and latching on to any part of him that she could claw or grab.

Alberto still managed to fire again. She braced herself for the sensation of being shot, or worse, but the only thing she felt was someone pulling her from behind. John.

He tore her away from Alberto, pushing her to the side. She fell against Jay. And since she was no longer standing, that cleared the path for John to go after Alberto.

If John was hurt, she certainly couldn't see any sign of it. And like her, he'd worked himself into a rage. But unlike her, he had the size and the strength to do something. He slammed his fist into Alberto's face. Alberto staggered back. Landing hard against what was left of the service exit door. He nearly fell back into the gaping hole. Then Alberto lifted his gun and aimed it at John. John did the same.

Brenna didn't have time to shout for John to get down. She didn't have time to do anything. Alberto dived back into the open space behind him. The relief was instant. Alberto hadn't shot John. But that relief was short-lived. Because she didn't hear Alberto crash into anything. Nor was there the sound of him falling down the steps.

Just the opposite. She could hear him running away. Escaping. And if that happened, this nightmare would start all over again. John, Aidan and she would never be safe. John obviously knew that, as well, because much to Brenna's horror, he raced into the stairwell after the man.

John didn't stop and think. He did what he knew he had to do, and what he had to do was go after Alberto. If Alberto had told the truth about the blocked stairwells and elevator, John couldn't count on help from the police or his own crew. They might not be able to get through whatever obstacles Alberto had set in time to stop him from escaping.

John raced into the service stairwell and stomped through the debris left from the explosion. He heard Alberto. Not in the stairwell below, but above. The man was headed to the roof where he probably had an escape route all planned out. Well, John couldn't let him go through with that plan. Alberto had to be stopped.

John barreled up the steps, taking them two at a time. Or rather trying to. The pain was instant and it rifled through him until the muscles in his leg knotted. If he'd been a hundred percent, this wouldn't have been much of a match. But as it was, he was going to have to muster every bit of determination he could to put an end to his.

And then he heard something he didn't want to hear. Footsteps coming from below him. Cursing and praying he was wrong about what he would see, he glanced down. He spotted Brenna one flight of stairs away. She wasn't looking at the weapon, but she had Jay's gun gripped in her hand. And that wasn't all. She didn't seem panicked. Or afraid. She looked determined. John wanted no part of that. Because her determination could get her killed.

"Go back." He warned her.

She frantically shook her head. "No, I won't. You need help."

That was true, but he didn't want help from her. He wanted her safe and that wouldn't happen if she was anywhere near Alberto.

"Go to the suite." He ordered. And then he played dirty pool. "Think of Aidan. He needs you."

"I am thinking of him." She insisted. "I'm thinking of you, too. I'm thinking of all of us."

John cursed, but he couldn't take the time to argue with her. Judging from the sound of Alberto's steps, the man was almost to the top. John's best chance was to outrun Brenna and hope to have everything resolved by the time she caught up with him. It was a lofty goal. Especially since each step was agony.

Still, he forced his body to do what it didn't want to do. He kept running. He kept forcing himself to move up those stairs. Then, John heard the door slam at the top of the stairs. Hell. That wasn't a good sound. Because it meant Alberto had made it to the roof and was likely on the last leg of his escape route.

John kicked things up a notch and turned the corner of the last stairwell. He spotted the door that would no doubt lead to the roof. He also spotted the shadow. A man's shadow. John's mind had just enough time to register that this was a trick that Alberto hadn't indeed gone out that door but was waiting to ambush him. John dived to the floor just in the nick of time.

The bullet that Alberto fired slammed into the concrete-block wall just above John's head. Before John could fully regain his position and re-aim his gun, Alberto launched himself at him. He came down those steps, tackling John, and the impact sent him hard into that same concrete that the bullet had struck. Alberto didn't stop there. He rammed his knee into John's injured leg.

The pain was instant. It knifed through John, knocking the breath out of him. And in the back of his mind, he knew that his injure had been his fatal flaw. It'd weakened him and given his opponent an advantage that he shouldn't have. John expected Alberto to finish the attack. He expected Alberto to shoot him. And there was shot. It blasted through the stairwell, echoing through the hollow space.

But the shot John heard didn't come from Alberto. It came from below them in the stairwell. John glanced down and saw Brenna. She had Jay's gun raised in the air, and the bullet she'd fired had gone into the ceiling. She had her eyes closed, terrified of the gun she'd just fired.

Alberto immediately honed in Brenna and John could tell the moment the man spotted her. He could also tell that Alberto was about to make Brenna his main target. The brief distraction that Brenna had created was all that John needed.

When Alberto shifted to re-aim his gun at Brenna, John drew back his fist. He put everything he had into it and his punch landed hard against Alberto's face. So hard that John heard a bone snap in the man's jaw. Alberto staggered back.

John didn't give him any chance to use his gun. He tried to knock it from his hand and shoved him against the wall. Then he did it again. The second time did the trick. Alberto's eyes rolled back in his head and his gun dropped to the floor. And so did Alberto.

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	28. Chapter 28

This is the last chapter of this story. Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted and favorited this story. You guys are awesome! Be sure to read the coming sequel that will focus on Katrina O'Neal's search for her baby that leads her to a handsome cowboy.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven:

It was chaos again. Brenna could hear the frantic movement and voices in the hotel corridor. The police had finally broken through the magnetized locking mechanisms that Alberto had attached to all the doors and the elevator. Along with an ambulance, the police and some of members of John's team had arrived, all of them rushing into the building and onto the damaged second floor. Everyone was scrambling to make sure there were no other injuries and no other explosives.

Once they were certain of that, they would be evacuated. Probably not John, though. Since he'd knocked Alberto unconscious, he'd stayed in the intense combat mode and had ordered her back to the suite. She'd complied, mainly because she wanted to check on Aidan and because she wanted to get away from Alberto, the man who'd created the horrible chaos that'd nearly gotten them killed.

Brenna sank down onto the suite floor just outside the bathroom where Kenzie and Aidan were still tucked away. Aidan was asleep. How, Brenna didn't know. But her son hadn't even stirred amid the explosion and the ensuing fight. A fight they'd won. She was too worried about John to appreciate that now, but she would later.

It was over. Alberto had been arrested and the threat was gone. Of course, that led her to another question—where would she go? Brenna was still asking herself that when she heard footsteps. Her heartbeat spiked. Her body went on alert. But she soon saw that it wasn't a threat.

John walked into the suite. Correction—he limped, just as he'd done on the stairwell. Brenna got up and hurried to him. He didn't resist when she slipped her arm around his waist and helped him to the bed. She didn't miss his grimace of pain.

"You need a doctor." She insisted.

He caught her when she tried to pull back and face him. Instead, he pulled her closer. "No. Right now, you're what I need."

That took some of the fight out of her. Brenna melted against him.

"How's Aidan?" He asked.

"Sleeping."

John reached over and for a moment she thought he was going to hold her hand, but he didn't. He took the gun away from her. A gun she hadn't even remembered she was holding. A sound of amusement jumped in her throat. Here she was a person with a diagnosed phobia of guns who hadn't even been aware she was holding one.

He placed the weapon on the night table next to the bed. "The police will need to take it since you fired a shot."

Of course, they would. Brenna stared at the gun and wondered why she'd let something like that have so much control over her. But that was the past. It wouldn't control her any longer.

Just minutes earlier she'd come face-to-face with a horrible fear—losing John. Everything else in her life suddenly seemed very manageable.

"How's Jay?" She asked.

"He'll be fine. The medics think he has a concussion, probably some cracked ribs, but they don't think it's anything too serious." He turned toward her. "You save my life."

"You've saved mine too many times to count." She kissed his cheek. "Why did Alberto do this? Was it really only because he didn't want us to be able to testify against him?"

John nodded. "And apparently he was working alone when he came after Katrina, you and me. I heard him tell the police that he'd lured Leighanne here with the promise that he'd help her get revenge, but that he planned to set her up to take the blame. He insisted that her death was an accident."

'Well, that bomb wasn't an accident so he can be arrested for attempted murder."

"That and a whole lot more, including the crimes he committed at Covington. And I believe he set the fires at both his house and Katrina's office, figuring that would take care of any witnesses or evidence against him."

"So he did all of this so he wouldn't have to go to jail." Brenna shook her head. "He risked our lives for that."

"But he didn't win." John reminded her. "I think I also figured out how Leighanne found us at my house. Alberto had already planted the bug in the diaper bag, but by then, the cops had taken him for questioning. Since he was tied up for hours, I believe he used his phone call to tell Leighanne where we were. He probably hoped she'd save him the trouble and just fly into a jealous rage and kill us.

She took a moment to process all of that. "So, Katrina isn't guilty of any wrongdoing?"

"No, I don't think so. Alberto wanted to make it look like she was a dirty cop to help his case."

Brenna drew in a long breath. "He tried to ruin so many lives."

"But he didn't succeed." John leaned in and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek, a full-blown kiss that eased some of her tension. "Once the police make sure it's safe to get us out of here, I'll take Aidan and you home."

"Home?" She repeated.

He lifted his shoulder and suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. That made Brenna uncomfortable. Oh, mercy. She'd known from the moment she made love with John that they were going to have to face this. Where did they go from here? Yes, they had a child, but now that the danger had passed, they didn't have a real reason to be with each other 24-7. Well no reason other than she wanted to be with him.

Brenna waited a moment to see how she felt about that and was pleasantly surprised to realize that she did indeed want John in her life. But did he? She probably would have launched into a mental debate, but the sound of the bathroom door opening put that on hold.

Kenzie came out holding Aidan. John and Brenna both got up and despite John's injured leg, they hurried to them. But nothing was wrong. Aidan was wide awake and looked perfectly content.

"I thought you might want to hold him." Kenzie offered.

Brenna agreed. She took Aidan, nuzzled his cheek and then immediately passed him to John. That eased some of the weariness in John's eyes. It eased her, as well.

"I'll go check on Jay and the police." Kenzie volunteered.

Brenna welcomed the time alone. It was indeed priceless watching father and son bond. It was hard to believe that just days earlier she'd thought John wasn't father material. She'd obviously been wrong.

"I want him to have your name." Brenna said. Though before she heard the words leave her mouth, she hadn't known she was going to say it then and there. "Aidan Geller Cena. That's the way it should be."

John nodded. Just nodded. And she saw him swallow hard. "Thank you."

He didn't add anymore, especially what Brenna wanted to hear, so she decided to risk it. If she put it all out there and he refused her, then she'd just learn to live with it.

"Where's home?" She asked.

John lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You said after the police gave us the all clear, we could go home. Where's home?"

With Aidan cradled in the crook of his left arm. John slid his arm around her waist and led her to the bed so they could sit. Apparently, this was going to be a long conversation. Brenna automatically braced herself for the worst.

But then, she looked again at the scene in front of her and refused to give in to negative thinking. They were alive and they had their precious baby. It wasn't necessary to put labels and definitions on their relationship. Even if that's what she suddenly wanted.

"Home can be anywhere you decide it is." John finally said.

She huffed. Then smiled at the firestorm of emotions. "I'm in love with you."

There. It was all out there now. Aidan was no longer the six-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. Her feelings were now the big thing they had to deal with. Unfortunately, John's way of dealing with it was to stare at her and not a say a word.

"Did you hear me?" Brenna asked.

"Clearly." The corner of his mouth lifted and he reached out and skimmed his finger along her cheek. As usual, just a brief soft touch was more than enough to make her ache for him. "When did that happen?"

"When I had sex with you." But then, she shook her head. "It wasn't just sex."

He made a soft sound of contemplation, which could have meant anything. "Would you like to know when I fell in love with you?" He asked.

Brenna truly wanted to know the answer to that, but the question simply took her breath away. "You're in love with me?" She clarified, though she had to speak around the father large lump in her throat.

"Very much so." He leaned in and kissed her. "I fell in love with you when I saw you nursing Aidan."

She thought back to that particular event and realized it'd happened before John and she had made love. "Really?"

"Really." He verified.

His voice was smoky and thick and his eyes fixed on her. With that heat and intensity simmering between them, John kissed her again. And again. The kisses probably would have continued if Aidan hadn't kicked at her arm. That little movement garnered both of their attention. They looked down at their son.

"I want to get married." John said.

Brenna's breath was already thin from the kisses and that statement made her even more light-headed. "Is that a proposal?"

"It is."

"Then my answer is yes."

The corner of John's mouth didn't just lift, it turned into a full-fledged smile. Brenna realized she was smiling too.

"Let's get married tomorrow. Tonight." He corrected. "We can fly to Vegas. Aidan can be our best man. And we can honeymoon in Fiji and then go home."

Oh, that did it. Brenna didn't just melt, she turned to mush. "Sounds good to me."

"Which part?"

"All of it. Yes, to marriage. Fiji. And home." Brenna had to blink back the tears. "So where's home?"

John slipped his hand around the back of her neck, eased her to him and kissed her until she was breathless. "Home is anywhere you and our son are."

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